


Snowfall

by story_strudel



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Absent Parents, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Aomine is just a mess in general, Binge Drinking, Biphobia, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Kagami is a cross-culture kid who wants to belong somewhere, Kuroko too TBH, M/M, Momoi and Kise are treasures, New years hookups, Quarter-life crisis FTW, Relationship Discussions, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_strudel/pseuds/story_strudel
Summary: After dropping out of college, Kagami moves back to Tokyo for a fresh start. His plans include reconnecting with old friends, playing basketball, and attending culinary school in the fall.His plans do not include hooking up with Aomine Daiki.**The hookup-to-friends-to-boyfriends AU where everyone is in their early 20s, Kagami went to high school in the US and Aomine is a fuckboy with feelings.**





	1. New Year's

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first longer fic I've written in years. Hopefully I'm not too rusty. I struggled a lot with characterization in this. I didn't want the characters to be exactly how they are in the series/manga because they're a bit older in my fic, but I want them to still feel like themselves. Especially with Aomine (and, in later chapters, Kise), I want to capture the push/pull between the serious and funny sides of their personalities. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, blah blah blah let's get on with it.  
>  

Kagami had never expected to return to Japan, at least not long-term. But here he was, waiting for Kuroko outside the arrivals hall at Narita Airport with his whole life shoved into two suitcases and a backpack.

 

He watched his breath mist in the air. Had Japan always been this cold in December? The last time Kagami visited had been three years ago for his grandfather’s funeral, but that had been in spring.

 

“Kagami.”

 

Kuroko was waving at him as he exited a silver Corolla as nondescript as he was. Kagami felt a sudden flood of warmth. “Hey, man. It’s been awhile.”

 

“It certainly has.”

 

They bumped fists and, while loading his things into the car, Kuroko asked about his flight and plans for the week. Kagami had already found an apartment online. He’d even had some furniture shipped so he wouldn’t have to worry about it right away.

 

They didn’t talk much during the drive. There would be time for that later, but Kuroko seemed to sense that he needed to process the whole thing. Kagami was finally here, in Tokyo against all expectations and his father’s wishes. There was a time when Kagami would have welcomed such a challenge.

 

But now he just felt tired.

 

…

 

After Kuroko dropped him off around 8 p.m., Kagami wandered through his new place--pretty empty still, but he could work on it. The apartment was a one-bedroom with a big kitchen and a connected living room that boasted floor-to-ceiling windows. He’d chosen an expensive apartment out of spite. Not that Kagami was usually one to pull the spoiled, faux-rebellious rich kid card, but it felt sort of good to throw his father’s distant, begrudging generosity back in his face.

 

Jet lag must have been messing with his biological clock because, as tired as Kagami was, he just couldn’t sleep. Instead, he busied himself with unpacking his clothes and the box of cooking utensils he’d had shipped over from the US. He hadn’t bought curtains for the windows yet, and so the light from the other buildings left Kagami feeling sort of exposed.

 

He fell asleep at around 4:30 a.m. and woke almost twelve hours later to a reminder on his phone telling him he was supposed to meet Kuroko and his girlfriend that evening for dinner. With a groan, Kagami forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom to pee. He needed a shower, but he’d have to run by a supermarket first to pick up some shampoo and soap. The task seemed pretty daunting, but after a nice cup of coffee, he’d probably--.

 

No coffee either. Well, shit.

 

Feeling like absolute garbage, Kagami slathered himself in deodorant before throwing on a beanie to hide his greasy hair. He must have still been pretty tired because on the way out he accidentally greeted the security guard in English, which earned him a weird look.

 

Thinking back, Kagami remembered a time when Tokyo had felt like home. He recalled playing in the park with his elementary school friends and puzzling over kanji exercises during cram school. He even had some preciously rare memories of attending festivals with his parents before his mom left, his hands sticky from eating cotton candy as he tried to ignore how much his hakama itched.

 

Now he was busy trying not to bump into anyone as he followed the map on his phone to the nearest supermarket. He located the essentials—toiletries, food for tomorrow’s breakfast, and coffee, obviously—only to find, when he tried to check out, that he had forgotten to put a travel alert on his credit card. This resulted in an embarrassing twenty-minute debacle that involved a very patient grocery clerk and a not so patient line of customers waiting behind him. By the time he got back to his apartment, Kagami had less than thirty minutes to shower, guzzle some coffee, and prepare emotionally to venture out once more.

 

He arrived ten minutes late. Not that he would have cared, normally. Kuroko wasn’t the type to get annoyed by that sort of thing, but Kagami had actually wanted to make a good impression on Momoi. Kuroko had been dating her for almost three years, and he was only just now meeting her. True to form, Kuroko never said much about her, but there was something about his expression when her name did come up that made Kagami curious. He supposed she must be a quiet, gentle person, much like his friend.

 

This supposition was inaccurate.

 

Momoi Satsuki was vivacious and talkative, charming and, the more he talked to her the more Kagami realized, a whole lot smarter than she let on.

 

“So you’re here to study cooking,” she said between bites of risotto. “What made you decide on that?”

 

“Uh, I dunno. I just like it.”

 

“Huh? That’s not much of a reason.” Momoi leaned across the table conspiratorially. “You’ve got to give me more to go on! Tetsu’s been so tight-lipped.”

 

He looked at Kuroko, who shrugged cryptically.

 

“Uh, it’s not much of a story. I tried college, but it didn’t work out, so I figured I might as well go with something I liked better. So, yeah. Cooking.”

 

He left out the family drama, the long hours spent on the basketball court in the unforgiving LA heat, shooting hoops until he couldn’t see straight as he tried to ignore the looming shadow of ‘what are you going to do with your life now?’

 

That being said, dinner ended up being really pleasant. Momoi told him about her work as a sports statistician, and they both laughed at how incapable Kuroko was of getting their waiter’s attention.

 

So, yeah. It was one of the nicer evenings he had had in a while, and if a part of him turned a little green with envy every time Momoi fixed Kuroko’s collar or when he put all the strawberries from his dessert on her plate when she wasn’t looking, he kept it to himself.

 

…

 

The next time Kagami saw Kuroko and Momoi was when he helped the couple prepare for a New Year’s party at their apartment.

 

Since Momoi had been banned from the kitchen for what Kuroko assured him were justified reasons, and Kuroko, himself, was busy trying to find a last-minute babysitter for their dog, it had fallen to Kagami to plan the menu. Honestly, though, he appreciated the job. It would give him something to do when he needed a break from meeting literally every person Momoi and Kuroko had ever met.

 

Okay, so Kuroko and Momoi had invited, max, 20 people, but Kagami wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, and the only friends he had in common with Kuroko lived in the States.

 

Guests weren’t due to arrive for another thirty minutes.

 

The doorbell rang anyway.

 

Kuroko, who had just returned from dropping off the dog, answered it and was immediately bowled over by a blonde with skin so radiant it looked like he’d walked straight out of a face wash commercial. He had to be the model Kuroko had mentioned. He had the looks and artistically draped scarf to prove it.

 

“Momoiii! Kurokooo! We’re here to heeeelp!” He beamed at Kuroko before turning to glare at his companion. “Sorry we’re late. Aomine wouldn’t get out of bed.”

 

The other one, whom Momoi was currently hugging the life out of, had a darker complexion and short-cropped hair. He was handsome, but he was also wearing joggers to a New Year’s party. Even Kagami, who had the fashion sense of an ant, knew better.

 

“Stop bitching, Kise. We both know we were late becau—Jesus, Satsuki! I can’t breathe!”

 

Unconcerned that her poorly dressed friend was turning a little bit blue, Momoi grinned up at him and pinched his cheek. “Consider it payback for ignoring all my messages!”

 

“Well why are you bothering me with all those otter videos? They're easily the world's most worthless animals.”

 

“How can you say that? They’re _otters_.”

 

“You mean beavers who can’t build shit.”

 

“You’re a beaver who can’t build shit!”

 

“Uh, Satsuki, I don’t have a bea—.”

 

“ _Daiki_. Kise.” Appearing out of nowhere as usual, Kuroko gave him a pointed look before continuing with a milder tone. “I’m glad both of you could make it.”

 

The blond winked. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

 

“Yeah, Tetsu. Thanks for the invite.” Disentangling himself from Momoi’s iron grip, anti-otter guy clapped Kuroko on the shoulder. “So, you gonna black out this year, too?”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it. Also, that only happened once, and I still hold you responsible.” Kuroko turned to where Kagami was standing, awkward as hell, in the kitchen doorway. “This is my friend, Kagami. We went to UCLA together. Kagami, this is Kise and Aomine.”

 

“Is this the US friend?” Kise asked, grabbing Aomine by the arm and literally pointing at Kagami like a he was some kind of sideshow spectacle. Aomine was staring at him, too, and there was something about the way he looked at him that made Kagami grit his teeth.

It was a brief exchange, really. They ran through introductions, and Kise asked him a few questions about LA before both he and Aomine were dragged off by Momoi to rearrange furniture for the party. Kuroko followed Kagami back to the kitchen to finish up the oeur d’oeuvres.

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Kuroko said. “You’re an important friend, so you should kno—.”

 

He was interrupted by a screech, followed by a crash that sounded an awful lot like the tray of canapés Kagami had just plated being upended. This suspicion was confirmed when he rushed out of the kitchen to find bits of pastry, feta cheese, and porcelain strewn across the hardwood floor. The catastrophe was apparently caused by Aomine dumping an entire bucket of ice—ice he should have been using to chill the sparkling wine—down the back of Kise's shirt and then bumping into the table in an attempt to escape the model's wrath.

 

“You _troll_! This is dry clean only!”

  

“Daiki, you moron! Kagami worked so hard on those!”

 

Moving so that the table was between him and an enraged Momoi, Aomine turned to Kagami. “My bad, man. I’m sure some of them are still salvageable.” 

 

“You shouldn’t serve food that’s been on the floor," Kise hissed acidly. "Not on New Year’s!”

 

“You shouldn’t serve food that’s been on the floor _ever_ ,” Kagami muttered, trying to quell the urge to strangle both of them. He hated wasting food, and those puff pastries had been the best he’d ever managed. Then again, he really didn’t want to come across as an over-reactive asshole to Kuroko’s friends. “Just clean it up, and I’ll figure out something else.”

 

Back in the kitchen, he could hear Kise and Aomine continue to throw potshots at each other.

 

Maybe they were dating.

 

Not that Kagami cared. Not that he was _disappointed_.

 

After all, Kise wasn't his type.

 

And Aomine was an asshole.

 

Though Kagami was a big enough person to admit that he very much appreciated Aomine's, um, aesthetic.

 

By the time guests started arriving, Kagami had managed to whip up some new, passable snacks with the leftover feta and a cucumber he’d found in the fridge. He’d also started drinking, which helped calm him down. It wasn’t that he was nervous or anything. Honestly, Kagami didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. He just found crowds annoying.

 

He did end up interacting with a few people. He had a nice chat with Kuroko’s childhood friend Riko and her boyfriend Hyuga about basketball. She was the coach of a top Japanese team. Hyuga was the manager. Cute. Then, he stood next to a ridiculously tall guy with long hair, eating in what Kagami considered companionable silence. Mostly, though, he just kept cranking out food and watching Aomine out of the corner of his eye. At first, he thought it was because he was still carrying a grudge about the pastries—which he totally was—but he was eventually forced to admit, with no small measure of despair, that he found the guy ridiculously attractive.

 

Kagami didn’t have the best track record when it came to dating. Growing up gay in a progressive city with a decidedly not progressive family had sort of sent him mixed messages, and by the time Kagami had his head on straight enough—ha—to download Grindr and put himself out there, he had missed the steep learning curve most people went through regarding dating in their teens. This led to him reading into some things a lot more than he should have, which had been humiliating and ultimately resulted in Kagami seeking solace in a life of chastity and thinly veiled resentment.

 

Damn. Aomine, though.

 

“Kagami, there you are.”

 

He jumped. “Dude! We’ve talked about this.”

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Kuroko took a tiny sip of wine. “I was sent to drag you out of the kitchen. It’s almost midnight. Also, I wanted to check on you. You're not being very social.”

 

Kagami ruffled his friend's hair. "Don't worry about me. I'm still shaking the jet lag. By the way, uh, thanks again for helping me sort out moving and stuff." He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to know I can count on you. Even if your friend fucked up my cooking.”

 

Kuroko chuckled. “Aomine's fucked up worse than that. Trust me.”

 

“Has he always been that...much?”

 

_And that sexy?_

 

“Believe it or not, he used to be worse.”

 

“Hurry up, Tetsu!” Satsuki called from across the apartment. “We have less than a minute!”

 

Kagami laughed. “You’re a good pair."

 

Kuroko smiled. “We knew each other in middle school. At that time I thought she was sort of silly, but when we met again after college, I don’t know. It was like nothing had changed, but at the same time everything had.”

 

“Dude. Stop.”

 

“I guess that came out sappier than intended. Can I tell you something?”

 

“As long as it’s not as cheesy as that last line.”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Kuroko took another swig of wine. He looked sort of jittery. “Satsuki and I are getting married. I asked her about a month ago, she said yes, and we’re going to announce it to our friends tonight.”

 

“Oh. Shit, wow. That’s…wow.” Kagami took a deep breath and tried again. “Congratulations. Momoi seems great. I’m really happy for you.”

 

Kuroko was blushing, which was weird and cute and, god, if anyone deserved to be happy it was him, and Kagami was happy for him, and Momoi, too. _Really_.

 

It was just.

 

“Tetsu! Kagami!” Momoi barged into the kitchen. “We’re starting the countdown _now_!”

 

So, they joined everyone in the living room, and when the clock hit midnight, they clinked their glasses and cheered and drank. And, then, beaming for all she was worth, Momoi took Kuroko’s hand in hers and announced that they had something to say.

 

And then she said it, and everything went very much as one might expect. People applauded, Kise burst into tears, and Kuroko and Momoi could only smile.

 

Kagami met his friend’s gaze from across the room and gave him a thumb’s up.

 

Then, he went back into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

 

“Need a hand?” Not waiting for a response, Aomine sidled up next to him and grabbed a washcloth.

 

Despite the other's indisputable hotness, Kagami couldn’t help giving him a suspicious look. “Don’t drop anything this time.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it." Aomine began to dry a stack of plates. “Some party, huh?”

 

“Yeah. Kuroko’s not usually one for dramatic reveals. Guess that’s Momoi’s doing.”

 

“There’s more to her than drama.” There was a bite to Aomine’s words, but it faded quickly. “Anyway, you didn’t look too shocked. Did Tetsu tell you beforehand?”

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Satsuki did the other day.” Aomine dried the last plate and moved on to the wine glasses. He wasn’t being very thorough.

 

“Uh, so how’d you and Kise meet?”

 

“Middle school?”

 

“Cool.”

 

Aomine burst out laughing. “You think we're dating, right? Sorry to disappoint, but we’d kill each other before we even got to third base.”

 

His laugh was low and raspy. Fucking perfect. “Could have fooled me,” Kagami muttered, fighting a flush. “I literally just saw him sobbing in your arms.”

 

“He’ll sob in your arms, too, if you’re not careful. That’s just how Kise is.”

 

“Yeah, well you still bicker like a married couple.” Rinsing the last of the clean dishes, Kagami turned off the water and leaned back against the counter so he could survey the party continuing in the other room.

 

“What can I say? We bring out the worst in each other.” Aomine ignored the other dishes and turned to lean back against the counter as well. It was a quiet moment, but Kagami didn’t necessarily mind. Though it was a bit weird to be sharing it with a guy who’d poured a bucket of ice down someone’s shirt.

 

“Hey, Kagami, right?”

 

“That’s me.”

 

Aomine didn’t say any more, just observed him lazily out of the corner of his eye. Kagami tried not to fidget.

 

“So,” he said, hating himself for giving in and talking first, “you know Kuroko from high school?”

 

“Middle school, too, actually. Tetsu and I go way back.”

 

“That so?”

 

“Yeah. We played basketball together. Same with Kise.”

 

“And Momoi?”

 

“Friends since we were little. Our parents know each other.”

 

Kagami nodded and glanced across the room at Momoi and Kuroko, who in the midst of the crowded party had managed to grab a moment alone together. 

 

Aomine followed his gaze to the happy couple. “Can’t believe they’re actually getting married.”

 

“Yeah.” The word stuck in Kagami’s throat. They were young and cute and smart and _straight_. The kind of couple people rooted for. “So basketball, huh?” he said, a little roughly.

 

“Yep. Won the national championship three years in a row.”

 

“You must be good, then.”

 

“Oh, I’m good.” Aomine winked and leaned in a bit. Their shoulders brushed. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

 

Well, then. Kagami gave Aomine a hard stare. Sure, the guy was hot, but he was also giving off a lot of fuckboy pheromones that he was positive he didn't want to deal with. “How do you know I'm into guys?”

 

“You are.”

 

“Asshole, don’t assume I--.”

 

“I’m not assuming shit. I asked Satsuki within, like, ten minutes of meeting you. She said you are and that you’re out, so what do you say?”

 

"Not interested." 

 

Aomine shrugged. “Whatever. If you want to spend all night pouting because your friends are happier than you, that's your choice."

 

Okay, ouch.

 

“I don’t even know you.” Kagami grumbled.

 

“Yeah, and I don’t know you. Who cares? It’s not like we're the ones getting married.”

 

 

Kagami took a final, fleeting glance at his engaged friends and sighed. "Fine. Fuck it." 

 

…

 

They loitered around for an hour longer, chatting with different people and sneaking a few more drinks, Aomine more so than Kagami. When enough time had passed for it to not be awkward, Aomine caught Kagami’s eye from across the room and tilted his head in the direction of the door. Some guests had already left, so it wouldn’t seem that weird. Still, Kagami wanted to avoid Kuroko if possible. He was in no mood for his friend’s perceptiveness and gentle disapproval.

 

Miraculously, he made it out without being accosted by any of the partygoers. Aomine wasn’t so lucky, showing up outside the building fifteen minutes later with a harassed expression. “Kise,” he grunted when Kagami gave him a questioning glance. “Come on. Let’s go.”

 

When they were a few blocks down the street from Momoi and Kuroko’s apartment, Aomine grabbed Kagami by the arm and steered him into a stairwell. He leaned in, eyes trained on Kagami’s mouth. “Can I?”

 

They were in a residential neighborhood late at night. No one on the street to see, though a small part of Kagami died a little imagining some scandalized granny watching from an upper story window. But what the hell, right? It was New Year’s, and he was horny and _jealous_ of his best friend’s convenient sexuality. Besides, Aomine was hot. Like, really fucking hot. And it even felt a little bit romantic with the snow falling soft on the empty streets.

 

Not that there was anything especially romantic about the way Aomine was staring at his mouth, but hey, no shame in pretending.

 

“Sure. Get over here.”

 

Aomine did just that, kissing him with a languid, almost lazy, confidence that made Kagami feel a bit inadequate and really turned on all at the same time. He parted his lips, and suddenly there was some nice tongue action as well. Aomine tasted like tap water and Prosecco.

 

“You smell good,” he breathed as he moved in to nuzzle Kagami’s throat. His hands skittered down his sides to rest at his hips.

 

Exhibitionism wasn’t really Kagami’s thing, and Aomine was getting a little handsy. “Maybe we should grab a taxi.”

 

The disgruntled pout on the other’s face when he pulled away made Kagami smile despite himself. “Uh, is it cool if we go to your place?” Aomine asked. “Mine’s kind of a mess.”

 

Kagami shrugged. It wasn’t as if he were about to complain.

 

…

 

Kagami felt on edge getting into the cab. This wasn’t Los Angeles after all. People might be more judgmental, but Aomine chatted with the driver the whole way about some game show that sounded really stupid, and by the time they reached his apartment, his anxiety had mostly dissipated.

 

They managed to control themselves until Kagami’s front door was closed. Then, not even bothering to remove his shoes, Aomine grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the kitchen. All Kagami could do was moan as the other pinned him against the fridge, ripped off his coat and proceeded to maul his collarbones.

 

“Idiot, don’t leave marks.”

 

“Whatever.” Aomine’s words were muffled by a mouthful of clavicle. “Just wear a scarf or something.”

 

He couldn’t bring himself to argue as Aomine moved up to nibble at his earlobe. His hands cupped either side of Kagami’s chest, pinching his nipples through his shirt.

 

“Shit!”

 

“Too rough?”

 

Peering down at Aomine’s smug but also somehow very horny expression, Kagami tried to figure out if he was being mocked. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

 

Aomine’s raspy laugh went straight to his dick. “Big talk, huh. I’d like to see you back it up.”

 

And that’s where his competitive streak kicked in. Pulling Aomine into a rough kiss, Kagami spun them around so that the other was leaning back against the counter. Then, he hooked his hands beneath his thighs and lifted him onto it.

 

He was pretty sure he almost threw out his back in the process—they were basically the same size after all--but the action had its desired effect. Aomine was looking a lot less smug and a lot more…carnivorous? “ _Fuck_ yeah,” he hissed into Kagami's mouth as he grabbed him by the collar and jerked him forward so forcefully the fabric ripped. Kagami couldn’t be bothered to care, not when they were making out and Aomine’s clothed erection was pressing flush against his stomach. He spread the other’s legs wider and shuffled forward until there was no space between them.

 

“You should blow me,” Aomine muttered.

 

“Can I get a ‘please’?”

 

“Don't worry, babe. I'll make it up to you.”

 

“Why is everything you say so sleazy?”

 

“Because sleazy works. Duh.”

 

Well, Aomine had him there. Making sure he at least saw him roll his eyes first, Kagami reached out and palmed the other’s dick through the soft material of his sweats. This elicited a pleased moan and slight scuffling as Aomine struggled to kick off his sneakers--along with everything else.

 

Kagami stared at his now bare thighs, watching the muscles jump as his fingers trailed over them. He continued moving up, thumbing his hipbones and pushing Aomine's T-shirt up to his armpits so he could get a look at what was under it.

 

Of course, he was fucking stacked.

 

Aomine snickered and flexed, just to be a dick. “Like what you see?”

 

“Shut up.” Leaning in, Kagami licked a wet stripe up his abs, relishing in Aomine's bitten-off gasp. He moved on to his nipples, which were small and just a few shades darker than the rest off him. They were cute, he decided as he worried the left one with his teeth.

 

“That feels good. It’s not my dick, though.”

 

“Impatient much?” Kagami gave Aomine's chest a parting nip before sinking to his knees and hooking the other's legs over his shoulders. The linoleum was kind of uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see Aomine flail a bit as he tried to balance on counter's edge. Kagami pressed his face against the soft skin of his inner thigh, biting down lightly to show his admiration. And then there was Aomine’s cock, and yeah, okay, a dick was a dick, but there was something extra nice about his. Like, maybe it had the perfect length to width ratio, or something. That, and the tip was already leaking. Kagami felt sort of flattered.

 

Leaning in, he gave the head of his cock a teasing lick.

 

"Come on," Aomine groaned. "Dude, _please_."

 

Well, if he was asking nicely.

 

With a smirk, Kagami pulled the whole thing into his mouth and gave Aomine exactly what he'd asked for.

 

Aomine didn't cry out, but it was a near thing, and when Kagami looked up at him, he found the other watching him closely, lower lip tucked beneath his teeth.

 

Relaxing his throat, he bobbed his head, fingers digging into Aomine’s hips to keep him from squirming. It was all going really well. Aomine was leaking more and more, making half-choked noises in the back of his throat that made up for all the obnoxious bullshit he’d spewed earlier. He couldn’t accomplish much in terms of movement, balanced as he was in such an awkward position, and it was fun to hear him whine as he tried to figure out how to thrust without relinquishing his white-knuckle grip on the counter’s edge.

 

Wanting to see how far he could go, Kagami let one of the other’s legs drop so he could reach in and stroke his balls. At the same time, Aomine let go of the counter with one hand to touch Kagami’s hair.

 

The result was a complete disaster.

 

Not only did Aomine lose his balance and fall into Kagami, causing him to trip, but he also knocked over an entire drying rack of dishes in the process, sending plates and cutlery to the floor with a crash that probably woke the neighbors. The whole debacle was a mess of limbs and glass that resulted in Kagami lying flat on his back with Aomine's weight crushing his erection.

 

 

“Damn,” Aomine muttered from where he lay sprawled out in the least sexy manner possible on Kagami’s torso. “I shouldn’t be allowed around dishes.”

 

“No you shouldn’t. Are you hurt?”

 

“Nah. You?”

 

“Nope. We should move to the bedroom though.”

 

Aomine didn’t offer to clean up the mess, but Kagami could be pissed about that later. Instead, he hauled him to his feet.

 

On the way, Aomine got really distracted by the living room windows.

 

“You ever fuck someone against the glass?”

 

“Wha—dude, I’m pretty sure that only happens in porn.”

 

“Wanna try?”

 

Maintaining that this sounded sexier in theory than it would probably prove in execution, Kagami grabbed Aomine by the elbow and frog-marched him down the hall to his bedroom. Aomine allowed this, taking the opportunity to grind his ass back against Kagami's crotch. 

 

Aomine didn’t waste much time once they reached the bedroom. Shucking his still rucked up t-shirt, he sprawled out on the mattress and turned to him expectantly. For a moment, Kagami just looked at him. He honestly couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream in approval or frustration because Aomine was naked and self-assured and surprisingly funny and sexy and fuck. He might have bitten off more than he could chew.

 

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Aomine's smirk seemed to soften, as if he was catching a whiff of Kagami's nerves. "Let me," he said, sitting up and reaching for the buttons of Kagami's shirt. "If that's, uh, cool with you."

 

"Um, yeah."

 

Allowing himself to be pulled forward, Kagami kissed Aomine hard and hot, using one hand to unbutton his own jeans while the other reached around to grab a handful of Aomine's ass. They were built pretty similarly, but Aomine's skin was softer, his calves not quite as hairy as Kagami's. He had nice hands, too, with long, elegant fingers that were currently making quick work of the buttons on Kagami’s dress shirt. Pushing that out of the way, Aomine leaned in to nuzzle his chest.

 

Kagami chuckled, skin jumping as the tiniest bit of stubble grazed his nipple. “You know I’m not a girl, right?”

 

“No shit. Nice tits, though.” Pushing his pecks together, Aomine ran his tongue between the cleavage they created. The action shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but apparently even Aomine being silly turned Kagami on because his immediate reaction was to push the other onto his back and shove a thigh between his legs.

 

Aomine grinned. “Eager, huh?” God, he was so fucking arrogant. Resolving to wipe that smirk off his face, Kagami ran his hands down Aomine’s torso, reveling in the long lines, the corded muscle that shifted beneath his fingers. Jesus, he hoped it wasn’t obvious how into this he was. But, then again, it was probably a lost cause. Kagami was edging towards desperate so fast his mind could barely keep up.

 

“Hey," Aomine muttered. "You down to fuck? Like, in the ass?”

 

"Um, yes?" Oh god. Yes. That.

 

"Sweet." Aomine pushed him away and rolled off the bed. Watching him riffling through his discarded clothes, Kagami was struck by the sudden, irrational fear that Aomine was about to leave. Maybe he just wasn’t into it. Or he’d decided Kagami wasn’t his type or--.

 

Oh. Wait. Aomine was back. He was back and still very naked and hard and holding--.

 

“A condom.”

 

Leaning back on his heels, Aomine scratched his neck. “I mean, uh, I sleep around, so--.”

 

Kagami’s brain kicked back to life. “That’s not what I…it’s fine. Responsible sex. Yes. Good plan.”

 

“…okay…I can just suck you off or--.”

 

“Nope! No, let’s do it. Let's have sex.”

Wow, Taiga. Smooth.

 

Aomine didn't seem to care if he was suave or not, though, as he rose to his knees and shoved Kagami back against the mattress. “Well, then, I won’t keep you waiting.”

 

“Waiting for what, exa--.”

 

“I’m gonna ride you.”

 

Kagami gulped. “Y-yeah?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Aomine stared hungrily at his dick in a way that was both sexy and mildly concerning. "Think you can handle it?"

 

“Think _you_ can?” he shot back, hoping his expression conveyed confidence instead of the raw need he really felt.

 

“I’ll manage.” Straddling his thighs, Aomine ripped open the condom package with his teeth—because of course he did it with his teeth—and rolled it onto Kagami's cock. He dribbled a liberal amount of lube into his hands, and Kagami’s eyes rolled back in appreciation as he began to slick him up. Meanwhile, Aomine’s other hand was moving back and, damn. Holy fuck. He was totally fingering himself.

 

“You want me to--?”

 

“Nah. I-I got it,” Aomine grunted. “Just give me a seco…shit…let me loosen up.”

 

Kagami was left to stare up at Aomine’s flushed face, listening to his heavy panting as he worked himself open. It seemed to take forever, but to be honest, Kagami wasn’t too cut up about that. He could have stared at Aomine’s stupid, sexy face for a lifetime, probably. Then, those long fingers were being wiped on the sheets, and he was crawling forward and taking Kagami’s dick in hand, and suddenly everything was hot and slick and tight, and Aomine’s gravelly voice rose sharply into a whine.

 

And all Kagami could do was lie there and gaze up in awe as Aomine proceeded to wreck himself on his cock.

 

 

It didn’t happen all at once. At first, Aomine just smirked like a self-assured idiot, probably trying to play it cool as he adjusted to Kagami’s dick. He could have been patient and worked his way down slowly, but apparently that was too beta male, or some shit, because he'd decided instead to just drop himself on it in one go, covering his wince with a slew of expletives so prolific Kagami almost wanted to scold him.

 

When Aomine finally placed his hands on Kagami’s chest and started riding him properly, it felt so good he thought he might cry. Aomine’s hips were moving fast and hard, and the solid pressure of his hands on his sternum made him feel weirdly grounded.

 

Aomine didn’t look so cocky now, either. His expression was becoming progressively more desperate—brow pinched, breathing harsh, short fringe sticking to the sweat on his forehead—but what really did it for Kagami was how he kept his gaze trained on him like he was the center of his fucking world.

 

Pun intended.

 

“…oh…fu--.” Removing a hand from Kagami’s chest, Aomine covered his own mouth.

 

“What’s the matter? Feeling shy?” Reaching between them, Kagami began stroking the other’s cock. Aomine gave a muffled groan, and the arm he’d been using to support himself collapsed. Kagami didn’t mind. He pulled Aomine down hard against his chest and rolled them over. The maneuver went less smoothly than he’d anticipated because of Aomine’s size, but he managed it once he got some momentum going. Then, he was on his knees, thrusting for all he was worth with Aomine’s heels digging into his lower back.

 

Prying the other’s hand away from his mouth, Kagami leaned forward and kissed him. Aomine kissed back--sloppily, but Kagami appreciated the enthusiasm. He appreciated pretty much everything about this situation, to be honest.

 

“You should…shit…do me harder.” 

 

Well, then.

 

Kagami considered slowing down just to be petty, but quickly decided this would run counter to both their interests. Instead, he hitched the other’s legs up higher on his hips and went for it.

 

And was rewarded when Aomine bucked so hard he damn near moved the bed. He was louder now, too, muttering curse words and moaning raggedly, while Kagami…well he was saying all kinds of shit, he was pretty sure, about how he’d known Aomine liked it rough and how tight he was and how fucking good he looked. It was hard to tell exactly, at this point. Hell, was Kagami even remembering to speak Japanese?

 

Whatever he was saying was working though, because he could feel Aomine's body shudder, see his cock slapping wetly against his abdomen with each thrust. And god, he was so hot, so tight inside, and the way his hips rolled up so fluidly to meet his...fuck. Kagami's body begin to heat up. He was almost there. He just had to--.

 

Kagami’s orgasm rolled through him in a sudden, acutely pleasurable wave. It was like being under water. He could feel his hips flush against Aomine’s ass, hear his own choked off moan, but it all seemed far away. Muted. When it was over, all he could do was sag forward, body twitchy and sated all at once.

 

“You fucker! Don’t you dare fall asleep!”

 

Oh, right.

 

“…sorry, give me a sec—motherfucker!”

 

Trying to ignore the nails digging into the back of his neck, Kagami lifted his hips so there was enough space between them and slipped his hand in to grab Aomine’s dick. He jerked him off quickly and a little more harshly than absolutely necessary. The asshole had _scratched_ him.

 

Aomine didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment. He just writhed and thrust into Kagami’s fist and generally made a spectacle of himself until he came in jerky spurts all over both their stomachs.

 

…

 

Once he’d tied off the condom and chucked it in the general direction of the wastepaper basket, Kagami rolled over to lie beside Aomine.

 

“I wasn’t _not_ going to get you off, you know,” he said, flicking the other in the nose.

 

Aomine swatted his hand lazily and pulled the come-stained bed sheet up to his chin. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “My ass hurts.”

 

“Gee. I wonder why.”

 

“Sex sure makes you sassy, huh?”

 

“Well it certainly makes you more bearable.” With a regretful sigh, Kagami sat up and leaned over to the bedside table to retrieve a glass of stale water that had been there since last night. He chugged half of it, handed the rest off to Aomine, and stretched until his spine cracked. “I’m gonna take a shower. Gotta wash your jizz off.”

 

Aomine winked at Kagami, but no amount of playfulness could hide how fucked out he looked. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll clear out of here.”

 

Shit, for real? This coming from the guy who had been falling apart on his cock, like, fifteen minutes ago?

 

Then again. Was it really that surprising?

 

_It's not like we're the ones getting married._

 

“Do whatever you want.” Kagami tried not to sound hurt. “Like I said, I’ll be in the shower.”

 

Aomine sipped the water. “Think of me while you wash your dick.”

 

As if he’d be thinking about anything else for a long time.

 

He was gone by the time Kagami got out. _You knew what you were getting into_ , his brain tried to tell him. Aomine, himself, had warned him. He wasn’t the kind of guy who did feelings, much less relationships.

 

He was, apparently, the kind of guy who forgot his wallet on the nightstand.


	2. Penalty shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly they sit in restaurants talking about emotions. Also, basketball.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO, PLEASE READ THIS: This chapter contains conversations (in very bro-ish terms) about compromised consent (SPOILER: not actual compromised consent), which will come up again later in the fic. I think this can be a touchy topic sometimes, so yeah. Head's up.
> 
> ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really conversation heavy, so I hope it doesn't drag on. But if you're into masochistic levels of miscommunication and character reflection...hey.
> 
> One thing that was difficult for me in writing this chapter was Kagami's conversation with Kuroko on the basketball court. I wanted to show the conflict Kuroko feels in validating Kagami's feelings even when they reflect negatively about someone else he cares about. Basically, I'm interested in exploring how people behave when their friends do shitty things to others. To what extent should they validate others' experience and step outside their own subjectivity? And how do they go about (or let be) trying to make things right?
> 
> Also, thank you thank you THANK YOU for your lovely reviews and kudos! I really appreciate your support and LOVE to know what you think.
> 
> ...

 

This was exactly why Kagami didn’t do hookups. He always got too intense about shit, and he always, always managed to fall in bed with guys who didn’t like him back. Sure it had been New Year’s, but what the fuck had he been thinking? If Kagami had had any functioning sense of self-preservation, he would have steered clear of Aomine from the start. Even worse, the asshole was Momoi and Kuroko’s friend. He’d definitely be seeing him again.

 

On the plus side, this meant Kagami could just give Kuroko the wallet and trust him to return it. Conversely, he could chuck the thing in the nearest river. There was nothing valuable in it anyway—just a supermarket point card, some change, and a bunch of wadded up receipts. Oh, and three condoms.

 

So, yeah, fuck Aomine. He’d just chuck the wallet in the bin.

 

But the more Kagami thought about last night, the more he couldn’t let it sit. Guys like Aomine had jerked him around one too many times, and he just…he wasn’t the new kid at school anymore, masking his accent with reticence and his awkwardness with an aptitude for sports. He wasn’t the child whose dysfunctional, distant parents had left him desperate for any affection he could get. Okay, so he kind of still felt like all of those things, but that was all the more reason not to let Aomine get away with being a dick. He got it that the guy didn’t want a long-term relationship. Kagami was pretty sure he didn’t, either. But that didn’t mean it was okay to jerk people around.

 

So, yeah. Kagami was going to give him a piece of his mind.

 

…

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_what’s Aomine’s #?_

 

 

Kuro-the-friendly-ghost:

 

_So you did have sex with him._

 

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_don’t judge me_

 

Kuro-the-friendly-ghost:

 

_You want to see him again?_

 

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_not for why u think_

 

 

After a cryptic five minutes of silence, Kuroko finally relented.

 

 

…

 

 

It took almost 48 hours for Aomine to text him back.

 

ho-mine:

 

_sry been busy_

_thx 4 wallet_

 

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_u want it back right? where should we meet?_

 

 

ho-mine:

_…is typing._

_…is typing._

 

_nakano jr?_

 

Shit. That was really out of his way.

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_fine. tonight at 7?_

 

 

ho-mine:

 

_Yeaaaaah_

 

Kagami10:

_…is typing._

_…is typing._

 

He deleted the “fuck you” he’d been about to send and threw his phone across the couch.

 

…

 

To be fair, Aomine did look like he’d been busy, though doing what Kagami didn’t really want to know. His hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. He was also 20 minutes late, which caused Kagami to feel significantly less sympathetic than he might have otherwise. When he finally did emerge at the top of the metro escalator and saw Kagami waiting, Aomine waved lazily and slouched over.

 

“Hey,” he said, bumping their shoulders against each other in a gesture of companionability Kagami did no reciprocate. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

 

“Whatever.” Fishing around in his gym bag until he found the wallet, Kagami shoved it into his hands. “Don’t forget your shit next time.”

 

The words ‘next time’ slipped out unbidden. An expression of mild surprise bloomed on Aomine’s face, which was almost cute until a purposeful smirk replaced it.

 

Kagami considered making a run for it. It wasn’t as if he had any dignity left to lose, and he could probably make the next train if he moved fast enough. He waited for a lewd and probably ego-crushing remark, something along the lines of ‘I didn’t know you were so into me’ or ‘that’s cute, but I never fuck the same guy twice.’

 

Instead, Aomine invited him to dinner.

 

It wasn’t anything fancy, just a small izakaya with cheap beer and decent yakitori. Kagami ordered three portions of that, fried rice, and two sides of pork dumplings. Aomine, who assured him he’d pay only after Kagami let him know very directly how inconvenient it had been to com all the way to Nakano, watched him eat in wonder.

 

“Jesus, where does it all go?”

 

“I work out a lot.” Reaching over, Kagami stole a bite of tempura from the other’s plate.

 

“You lift?”

 

“Sometimes, yeah.”

 

“I knew it.” Draining the rest of his beer, Aomine signaled for another glass. “The way you threw me up on that counter, I was pretty sure you—ack!”

 

The dumpling Kagami shoved into his mouth prevented Aomine from saying anything too incriminating. He seemed to get the hint and only retaliated with a disgruntled pout.

 

Which was actually kind of cute.

 

Wait. Wasn’t he supposed to be giving him a piece of his mind? Aomine was a douche bag.

 

A _cute_ douche bag.

 

Clearly, this wasn’t going as he’d planned.

 

The thing about Aomine was that, when he wasn’t teasing or flirting, he didn’t say all that much. He just fidgeted in his seat and drank a lot faster than he probably should have. Not that Kagami was really doing his part to keep the conversation going, what with his internal debate about why the fuck he was even here when he’d originally planned to chew Aomine out in front of the train station before making a dramatic exit.

 

But it was getting kind of awkward. Maybe he should--.

 

“Tetsu told me you wanna become a chef,” Aomine blurted out.

 

“Uh, yeah. I start culinary school in September.”

 

“How’d you get into that?”

 

Kagami shrugged. “You’ve seen for yourself, I love food. That, and my parents weren’t around a lot when I was young, so I figured I could either live off lunchables for the rest of my life or learn to cook.”

 

“What’s a ‘lunchable’?”

 

“Imagine the world’s shittiest bento.”

 

“Can’t be worse than Satsuki’s cooking.” Aomine shoved a piece of fried shrimp into his mouth and chewed it with a pensive crunch. “My parents weren’t really around, either, but I just stole food from Sakurai.”

 

Thinking back, Kagami was able to attach the name to a shrimpy, sort of nervous looking guy from the New Year’s party.

 

“Anyway,” Aomine continued, “what’s your plan after you graduate? You should start a cooking show or something. Rake in the cash.”

 

“Nah, I wanna open a soba place back in California. A real authentic one. None of that fusion bullshit.”

 

“Yeah?” Was he imagining it, or did Aomine actually sounded impressed?

 

“Yeah. Uh, how about you? What do you…do?”

 

“Eh, not much really. I take some classes. Work a little.”

 

“What kind of work?”

 

“Cam boy.”

 

Kagami choked, spewing rice across the table.

 

“I do all the kinky shit,” Aomine continued conversationally. “You earn, like, twice as much that way.”

 

“Is that, uh…” Kagami was pretty sure his face was as red as his hair.

 

“Sometimes the old guys even want me to…dude, don’t die. I’m totally joking.” Grinning, Aomine flicked Kagami in the nose. “You should see your face.”

 

“Dumb ass. That wasn’t funny.” Trying to recover from the mental image of Aomine doing amateur porn, Kagami drained the rest of his beer. When the other ordered another, so did he.

 

It was getting late by the time they left the restaurant, and Kagami found himself a little tipsier than intended--mostly because he hadn't wanted Aomine to think he was a light-weight and had tried to keep pace. That being said, he’d actually had...fun?

 

They walked around for a while, enjoying the peaceful streets despite the chill, shoes crunching in the packed snow. For the first time since returning to Tokyo, Kagami felt at ease. Like maybe dropping out and leaving California hadn’t been a terrible mistake. A small part of his brain told him he should bring up Aomine leaving the other night, but why…why ruin a good moment, right?

 

He looked at his phone. Had they really talked that long? It was almost 11 p.m.

 

“I should get going. Thanks for dinner.”

 

“Yeah, well, least I could do, right?”

 

Kagami wasn’t as perceptive as Kuroko, but even he was pretty sure Aomine wasn’t talking about the wallet.

 

“How’re you getting home?” he asked when they got to the station.

 

“I’ll just walk.”

 

“Seriously?” The annoyance from earlier that day returned to Kagami in a rush. “You made me drag my ass all the way across town, and you live close enough to walk?”

 

“Sorry about that.” Aomine didn’t look remotely sorry. “You know, if you’re tired, you could crash at my place. Let me _really_ make it up to you.”

 

For a second, Kagami considered it. He knew what ‘crash at my place meant’, and he couldn’t say it wasn’t a tempting offer. Besides, he was pretty tired, but no matter how nice the evening had turned out, Kagami couldn’t get the gross aftertaste of New Year’s Eve out of his mouth.

 

He was pretty far from home though, not to mention a little bit drunk, so maybe he might as well—.

 

He jerked away from Aomine in disbelief. “Did you plan this?”

 

“…what?”

 

“You fucking did, didn’t you? You had me come all the way out here because you knew I’d be tired. And you...shit…you left your wallet at my place on purpose. Of course you fucking did! That was your plan all along! Find a way to get me alone and get me drunk enough to…do you know how fucked up that is?”

 

“That’s not…I wasn’t trying to get you _drunk_. Jesus.” But even as he spoke, an expression of discomfort was spreading across Aomine’s face. “I just wanted to, uh, you seemed pretty dope, so I thought—.”

 

“So you thought you’d fucking play me by peacing out right after we hooked up? And then what? Trick me into having sex again? Make _me_ seem like the desperate one?”

 

Aomine opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He looked like he’d just been sucker punched, which was great because that’s exactly what Kagami would have done if they hadn’t been in public.

 

Then again, it wasn’t worth it. Kagami was tired. Not to mention he had an hour-long commute to look forward to. He shook his head with a sigh.

 

“Goddamn it, dude. All you had to do was ask for my number.”

 

…

 

The next morning he had three missed calls and a text from Aomine that read ‘hey please call me.’ He didn’t call Aomine. He didn’t give him the time of day. He was too angry…angry and fucking hurt. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy. Like, he got along with most people fine, but he rarely let people in. It was just that he’d just clicked so well with Aomine, and so he’d thought maybe…well, he’d been wrong, obviously. Twice.

 

It wasn’t doing him any good to stew in his apartment, so Kagami grabbed the basketball that had taken up way too much space in his luggage and went to the park across the street to shoot hoops.

 

It was a bright morning, too cold at first but becoming pleasant enough once he’d warmed up. Running through all of the drills he’d committed to memory in high school, Kagami let muscle memory take over. He loved basketball—the competition part of it, of course, but also the rhythm of rubber hitting asphalt, the ball’s roughness in his hands, the way his body just _knew_ what it was supposed to do. He played until his lungs burned for oxygen. Until his fingertips were numb with cold. When he finally stopped, Kagami saw that it was starting to get dark.

 

“You still haven’t lost your touch.”

 

Huh. How long had Kuroko been standing there? More importantly, _why_ was he standing there? Tucking the ball into the crook of his elbow, Kagami made his way over.

 

“What brings you out here?”

 

Kuroko leaned back against the court’s chain link fence. His face was impassive, but then again, wasn’t it always? “You didn’t respond to my messages.”

 

“Oh, sorry. I left my phone at home.” Kagami waited a beat, then gave in with a frustrated sigh. “Is this about Aomine?”

 

“Partially, yes. He called me last night. He was upset.”

 

“Upset that he’s a fucked up asshole?”

 

“Among other things.” Kuroko’s gaze shifted from Kagami’s face to his hands, chapped with cold. “He told me what happened. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“I’m fine.” It took saying this to make Kagami realize it wasn’t remotely true. “Listen, Kuroko, I’ve dealt with guys like him before. It’s whatever. I’m just annoyed because he’s Momoi’s friend, so I’ll probably have to see him at your wedding.”

 

“Should I ask her not to invite him?”

 

“What? No. Dude, it’s fine. He wasn’t, like...I just hate that mind game shit, you know? Guess I should have figured though. Nothing about him exactly screams ‘well-adjusted.’”

 

Kuroko’s lips quirked sadly. “Daiki’s his own worst enemy in a lot of ways. He wanted me to tell you he’s sorry, by the way. I told him he should tell you, himself, but he didn’t think you’d want to see him.”

 

“Can’t say he’s wrong.”

 

“Kagami, I…” Kuroko hesitating was never good. “…it’s a shame, I guess. To be honest, I though the two of you might really hit it off.”

 

“Yeah. Me too. So, uh, what did he say to you? About what happened?”

 

Kuroko sighed. “He admitted everything as far as I can tell. About the hookup and you, um, getting angry when he said that he was leaving.”

 

Shit, Kagami had thought he’d hidden it better than that. “Yeah, well, who wouldn’t be, right?”

 

“Most of Daiki’s partners aren’t really…anyway, he told me about the whole wallet thing. He said that he didn’t think you would give him your number when you were mad, so he improvised. He thought that if you really didn’t want to see him again, you’d just give the wallet to me.”

 

“So you think he was giving me an out?”

 

“All I can say is what he said.”

 

“But what do you _think_?”

 

“I want to think he’s telling the truth, but I wasn’t there.” Suddenly, Kuroko looked really tired. “Daiki’s an idiot, but I’ve never known him to be a liar. When he does something wrong, he admits it, which he did, but he also said that he didn’t mean it in…quite the way you took it.”

 

“You mean that he was trying to get me drunk enough to sleep with him.”

 

Kuroko nodded. “He seemed pretty horrified by that.”

 

“He could have been faking it.”

 

“He could have been.”

 

“…but something tells me Aomine isn’t much of an actor.”

 

“Not the Daiki I know.”

 

Exhaling harshly, Kagami watched the air from his lungs turn to mist. He thought through his interactions with Aomine. The guy was a flirt, sure, but he hadn’t been manipulative about it. If anything, he was one of the more direct, no nonsense people Kagami had had the pleasure of sleeping with. That was part of why the whole wallet debacle had taken him off guard.

 

He glanced over at Kuroko, who looked about as happy as a sick kitten. “Hey, you okay?”

 

Schooling his features into their usual apathy, the pale-haired young man shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to see Daiki make the same mistakes. All I can say is that I’m really sorry for what happened.”

 

Well if that didn’t speak to previous friendship trauma, nothing did. “You’re don’t need to apologize, dude. That’s his job.”

 

“But it’s not your job to accept it. Not if you don’t believe him.”

 

“I know.” Kagami's gaze traced the winding cracks in the pavement beneath his feet. “Listen, I want to get to the bottom of this, too. Get closure, or whatever. I’ll contact him and see what he has to say. What do you think?”

 

…

 

For their confrontation, Kagami chose a 50s-style Americana diner that he knew for a fact had terrible food and service. It was his way of passive aggressively punishing Aomine and ensured that there wouldn’t be too many other customers around to overhear. He also chose the place because it was as far away as possible from Aomine’s apartment.

 

He was not above being petty.

 

Just like last time, Aomine was late, though he looked a good deal more rattled about it than he had before. “Sorry,” he panted as he slumped into the booth across from Kagami. “I had class.”

 

Kagami didn’t reply. Instead, he flagged down the waitress and ordered two breakfast platters. Then, staring at the other expectantly, Kagami waited.

 

“So,” Aomine finally said, voice grating, “I owe you an apology.”

 

“An apology for what?”

 

“For, um, messing with you and just…all of it.”

 

“For wasting my time?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And making me drag my ass all the way to Nakano for some bullshit reason?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And pulling a dine-and-dash after we fucked?”

 

“Um, yes.” Taking Kagami’s silence for expectation, Aomin continued haltingly. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just, that’s what people _do_ after a hookup, right? Besides, I wasn’t picking up any signals.”

 

“Signals?”

 

“That you wanted me to stay. You’re not exactly expressive.”

 

“Oh, and you are, Mr. ‘I’m too chicken-shit to ask for your number, so I’ll just jerk you around’?”

 

Something like annoyance flashed across Aomine’s face. “I said I was _sorry_. And I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to get you drunk, okay? People like that..I know I’m not, like, a saint, okay, but I’m not _that_ disgusting.”

 

“You kept ordering drinks.”

 

“Yeah, for _myself_. I didn’t expect you to keep up with me! You’re the one who made it into some sort of stupid competition!”

 

That was actually kind of a good point.

 

“I don’t do shit like that,” Aomine continued, “but I get…I could have, like, actually told you not to feel pressure to drink. Like, I would have mentioned that to a girl, but you’re a guy, so I didn’t think, but obviously I should have…anyway, I’m sorry about that, too.”

 

Kagami sighed. “It’s okay. To be honest, I’ve been in situations like that before, and I guess I might have like, projected a little bit.”

 

At that point, the waitress returned with their food. Well, actually, Kagami had ordered both platters for himself, but he suddenly wasn’t feeling quite as hungry and so didn’t bother to correct her when she set one in front of Aomine. “But, like, why go to all that trouble then?” he asked. “Did you just want to hang out?”

 

“I guess? Or maybe, shit, I dunno, go on a date or something.”

 

_A date?_

 

“Then why didn’t you just ask me properly?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

 

“Well not after you ran out on me the first time, no.”

  
Aomine pierced a runny egg with his fork and watched glumly as the yolk dribbled out onto the plate. “I don’t make a great first impression, usually, but I figured I could, like, convince you to like me over time. It worked with Tetsu.”

 

“What worked? You invited Kuroko to a remote, unfamiliar area and tried to ‘nice guy’ your way into his pants?”

 

“Fuck you, man. I said it wasn’t like that.”

 

“Then why’d you try to take me home with you?”

 

“I thought that’s what you wanted!” Aomine rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I wasn’t gonna at first. Like, I ignored that whole ‘next time’ thing, but then you stayed so late talking to me, so I just figured, you know?”

 

“Maybe I was just enjoying our conversation!”

 

“Well, I didn’t think of that!”

 

“That should have been the first thing you thought of!”

 

“Bullshit. People don’t…” Aomine paused for a moment and then continued a bit more calmly. “I know I’m an ass, okay? I get it. But I also have a great ass, so I figured if you agreed to hang out with me so long…that’s what you’d want.”

 

Well, then.

 

“To be clear, what you’re saying is you have no confidence in your shitty personality, so you tried to use sex to keep my attention.”

 

“Don’t say it like that! It sounds sad.”

 

“Dude, it _is_ sad.”

 

“What are you, my therapist?”

 

“Would you fuck your therapist?”

 

“I _have_ fucked my therapist.”

 

“Seriously? Did you treat him to dinner, too?”

 

“Actually, _she_ paid!”

 

“Fuck, please be joking.” Despite himself, Kagami sort of saw where Aomine was coming from. Not that this made what he’d done one-hundred percent okay, but it did make it a lot less creepy. He got how the ‘next time’ thing could have been confusing, and this whole ‘people only ever want me for my tragically hot body’ complex, while melodramatic as hell, kind of put his actions into context.

 

That, and if he was being honest about the alcohol thing, which Kagami kind of thought he was, then maybe…

 

“Here’s the thing,” he said carefully, “I’m still pissed at you, but—.”

 

“Yeah. I get it.” Aomine stared down at the table. I’ll just g—.”

 

“ _But_ …you’re not completely terrible, and I wouldn’t mind, like, resetting this whole thing.”

 

The other’s head snapped up, eyes widening owlishly.

 

“I won’t put up with that kind of bullshit, though,” Kagami continued. “You’ve gotta tell me upfront what you want. Like, are you looking for a boyfriend or a fuck buddy?”

 

Aomine flushed red at the word ‘boyfriend’ and did not respond.

 

“…okay. Are you looking for a regular buddy, then? Like a friend?”

 

“I…uh…whatever you want, you know? If you wanna have sex, or not, whatever. I’m flexible.”

 

The fact that he had used the word ‘flexible’ in a context only tangentially related to sex told Kagami more than anything that Aomine was being serious.

 

“Okay. Well, what I want is for things to just chill out a bit. So knock off the flirting, and don’t _forget_ _your shit at my house on purpose._ Deal?”

 

A twitchy, abortive smile flickered across Aomine’s face. He looked relieved…and really embarrassed.

 

“Um, yeah. Yes. That’d be cool.”

 

…

 

They hung out a few times during the following weeks—twice to play video games and once to see an action movie that was unwatchably bad even by Kagami’s low standards. At first Aomine was a bit too stiff, but after Kagami had assured him that having a conversation and flirting weren’t the same thing, hanging out with him was actually really pleasant.

 

He learned stuff about Aomine, too. Like that his real part-time job was working as a bartender at a scuzzy bar in Shinjuku. That, and he was really tight-lipped about his university classes. When Kagami pressured him for his major, Aomine had shrugged and told him he was just focusing on his generals. He also learned that Aomine was an only child, like him, and that his apartment was a dark dungeon of a basement studio full of clutter and dirty dishes and bags of unsorted recycling that was nonetheless weirdly cozy.

 

Aomine also possessed what Kagami considered to be a mild addiction to gravure magazines, which he discovered by accident the first time he visited his apartment and opened a shoe box he thought contained a pair of collector Air Jordans. What he found instead was a stack of publications depicting cute girls in bikinis, lingerie, and much, much less.

 

“I didn’t know you liked tits,” Aomine deadpanned when he caught Kagami, hands basically full of boobs.

 

“I thought there would be shoes in here.”

 

“Nope.” The asshole was obviously trying not to laugh. “Just tits.”

 

“Oh. Too bad.” Kagami stared at Aomine, then back at the magazines. “You like tits?”

 

“Yeah. Tits…dicks…it’s all good.”

 

“You’re bi?”

 

“I guess? Is that a problem?”

 

“Why would it be?”

 

Aomine shrugged. “Some people don’t like that. It’s, like, a thing.”

 

“Well, I like you just fine,” Kagami snapped, a little bit annoyed by Aomine’s assumption that he would be so narrow-minded. He was also uncomfortable because this whole conversation was veering in a direction they probably weren’t ready to handle.

 

Aomine seemed to come to the same conclusion because he packed away the magazines and showed Kagami the actual collector Jordans, which were placed neatly in a shoe rack behind a pile of dirty clothes.

 

They played one-on-one a couple of times, too, and Aomine was every bit as good at basketball as he’d claimed. He had this way of moving and handling the ball that was both infuriating and addicting to play against. The only word Kagami could think of to describe it was ‘fluid’. Aomine moved like water—unrestrained, flowing into openings in his opponent’s defenses with a practiced yet instinctive grace that Kagami had experienced only in the very best of street ball in the US. He, himself, had always been pretty agile, and he had a killer vertical jump, but keeping up with Aomine took everything he had.

 

It might have been different if they were playing on teams. After all, Aomine’s style of play didn’t exactly mesh with any team dynamic Kagami had ever heard of, but when it was just the two of them on the court, he shone like…well, shit. No use waxing poetic about a guy who already had ego to spare, right?

 

Of course, Kagami had his own raw athleticism, years of practice, and ride-or-die competitive nature to draw on. He won as many of their games as he lost, so it wasn’t as if they were unevenly matched. Still, there was something so…fitting about how Aomine played. In high school, Kagami had lived, breathed, and slept basketball, There had been a time when he had felt that out of the limitless possibilities the world might offer, basketball was the one thing he was made to do—but watching Aomine play was the visual embodiment of that feeling. He _was_ made to play basketball, plain and simple.

 

If not for his clear skill, then for the fact that the only time he seemed truly, unapologetically happy was on the court.

 

…

 

It was before one of these one-on-one sessions, that Kagami received a text alert from his bank. Normally, he never brought his phone with him to the park. It wasn’t a conscious thing. He just didn’t think about it. But since Aomine had started joining him, he’d started carrying it, if only to harass the other when he inevitably showed up late.

 

Which is exactly what he was about to do one Sunday morning around the end of February, when he received the message. Clicking the link, he frowned.

 

_Insufficient funds._

 

His rent payment hadn’t gone through.

 

What the hell? Upscale apartment aside, Kagami wasn’t much of a spender. Besides, he had received his monthly allowance from his father a week ago.

 

Hadn’t he?

 

Opening his bank app, Kagami scrolled through his statement history. There was no transfer record.

 

He’d been cut off.

 

A dull emptiness welled in his gut. His father hadn’t even cared enough to tell him. Not even to reprimand him for being a deadbeat son or at least give him some fucking warning. His father wasn’t even trying to teach him a lesson, probably. Kagami was just a bad investment that he’d decided to get out of when the time was right.

 

And wasn’t that just like his dear old dad. To cut ties neatly. _Clinically._ Emotions were inefficient. Unnecessary. Something you might sometimes indulge in while lying in bed awake at night but never—.

 

“Hey, dummy! We gonna play, or are you just gonna stare at your phone all day?”

 

He looked up to find Aomine standing in front of him. He’d already removed his jacket and was wearing a black sweatshirt and basketball shorts over a pair of Under Armour leggings. He looked resplendent—tall and arrogant with bright eyes and the worst fucking case of bedhead Kagami had ever seen.

 

Kagami knew that he should probably cancel, that he should make his apologies and go home and call his landlord, reassess his finances, and start looking for a fucking job because there was no way he was about to go groveling to his old man. He’d win the war of silence between them, if nothing else.

 

But, instead of doing all of that, Kagami found himself smirking back, tossing his phone carelessly back into his gym bag as he hefted the basketball and shoved it roughly into Aomine’s hands.

 

“Don’t be so impatient, asshole. You’re the one who’s late.”


	3. Smoke on the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami is an absolute angst bucket. Aomine's grandma is the best thing I've ever written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the million-year wait. I actually had another chapter ready to go, but then I decided to shuffle everything around, and school got in the way, and yeah. Here we are. The next one should come out sooner. I hope.
> 
> Thanks to those who've commented and left kudos on this story! I hope this installment was worth the wait! Please do let me know what you think, if you're so compelled. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.
> 
> Also, this is unrelated, but NEW SEASON OF VOLTRON FTW!!!

...

 

February crawled into March, and Kagami still hadn’t figured out what to do about his finances. He’d picked up a part-time job at a ramen shop, but that was barely enough to meet the minimum payments on his credit card, and he had started receiving information about his upcoming school fees as well. The solution was pretty clear—drop culinary school, hightail it back to the US, and promise his dad he’d go back to college if he started paying for his shit again.

 

But, even if it was the stupidest, pettiest, most privileged bullshit reason ever, Kagami’s pride wouldn’t let him.

 

When he wasn’t working, Kagami tried distracting himself from his economic troubles in other ways. He started looking for an apartment cheap enough to make it worth breaking his current lease, and he spent a lot of time in the kitchen, honing his skills in preparation for school—albeit with cheaper ingredients than he might have liked.

 

He would have liked to hang out with Kuroko and Aomine more, but both of them had been busy recently—Kuroko with work and Aomine with a stats class that seemed to be causing him a lot of grief. He didn’t usually talk about school, but last time Kagami had dropped by his place—funny it didn’t seem so far away now that they were friends—he had found him neck deep in homework with a frazzled Sakurai trying to keep him afloat.

 

_“I don’t get it.”_

_“I’m sorry!”_

_“If it’s significant, why did they mark it wrong?”_

_Sakurai wrung his hands. “Well, it is statistically significant, but, uh, the question wanted to know about practical significance.”_

_“How can you tell?”_

_“You have to relate the numbers back to the real world. If the difference you measured would make a difference in the context of the question, it’s practical.”_

_Aomine swiped a palm across his face. “So I got the math right for once…and still got it wrong.”_

_“I’m sorry!”_

_“Whatever. Hey, Kagami. You wanna go to Maji Burger?”_

Kagami had talked to Kuroko a little bit about Aomine’s studies. Apparently, he’d had trouble with his grades in high school, barely scraping by so that he could continue playing sports. He hadn’t gone to university immediately but finally began to take classes around the time Kuroko and Momoi started dating.

 

He wondered what had sparked the sudden motivation.

 

Kagami, himself, was feeling anything but motivated at the moment. A glance at his phone told him it was almost noon, but he still couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed. Shit. He hadn’t slept in late so often since high school. Not that there was much reason to get up. It was his day off, so he had no plans, really. Just cook and maybe go for a jog if the sky stopped spitting ice pellets that passed as snow. Maybe he’d give Alex a call. She might appreciate knowing her childhood friend hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet.

 

Kagami’s finger hovered over the call button, but at the last minute he rang Aomine instead. To his surprise, the idiot picked up.

 

_“What do you want?”_

 

“I, uh…” He hadn’t really thought about it. “I need new trainers.” A lie. “Momoi said you know a lot about shoes, so help me shop for them.”

 

_“You expect me to get out of bed for that bullshit? I worked the late shift last night.”_

 

“I’ll buy you lunch.”

 

Aomine let out a low, considering hum. _“How about you cook me dinner?”_

 

“I am _not_ your personal chef.”

 

_“Well, I am not your personal shopper.”_

 

Kagami could practically see Aomine’s annoying grin. “Fine.”

 

…

 

They met at Shibuya Station. Kagami didn’t bother to be on time since Aomine was always late anyway. This meant he arrived after Aomine for once, catching sight of him from across the street before the other noticed. Aomine really stood out with his tall build and pissy expression. He was wearing a navy anorak, the collar of which he had zipped to his nose to fend off the chill. It wasn’t even snowing at this point—the wind was just blowing the snow around, driving flakes like needles into the skin. When he finally caught sight of Kagami, Aomine scowled.

 

“Don’t invite me out if you’re just gonna be late, douchelord.”

 

“You didn’t have to come if you were just planning to be grouchy. Don’t you have exams to study for?”

 

“I’ll exam your face!”

 

“That doesn’t even—whatever, let’s just go.” Rolling his eyes, Kagami strode into the shopping center.

 

There must have been some kind of sale because the place was absolutely packed. No matter how careful he was, Kagami managed to bump into at least ten people by the time they got to the sporting goods section.

 

“So,” Aomine drawled, “what exactly are you looking for?”

 

Shuffling awkwardly out of the way of two women pushing strollers, Kagami tried to concentrate on the rows of sneakers lining the wall. What the fuck was he even doing here? “Uh, something durable. Not too expensive, either.”

 

“What do you wear now? Lebron 14, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s a great shoe. Overpriced though.”

 

Kagami hadn’t had to think about that when he’d bought them.

 

Plucking a shoe off the wall, Aomine shoved it into his hands. “Try this. Good traction and cushioning. It’d suit your style of play.”

 

He turned the shoe over in his hands. “What is this? Adidas?”

 

“Yeah. Adidas Dame 3.”

 

“I’m a Nike man.”

 

“Suit yourself, but the Dame 3 is a better deal.”

 

Kagami managed to find something wrong with every pair of shoes tossed his way. He felt a little bad about it because Aomine was starting to look irritated, but there was nothing to be done for it. He couldn’t afford to actually buy any of them. Why was he even here? Why had he contacted Aomine in the first place? Oh, that’s right. He was a sad, lonely fuck who didn’t want to think about what a sad, lonely fuck he was or how he was going to go broke and amount to nothing and die alone and how people in this store would not stop bumping the fuck into him.

 

“Watch it!” He snapped in English as an old lady’s massive handbag clipped his thigh. She gave him a withering look and moved on, and when he turned back Aomine was up close and staring at him with that weird, manic intensity he sometimes had when they played basketball.

 

“What’s wrong with you today?”

 

“Uh, nothing?”

 

“Are you, like, hung over? Or sick or something? You’re being a total bitch.”

 

“You’re the bitch!” Kagami said it too loudly. People turned, eyes landing on the towering, red-haired guy with a slightly off accent. Aomine still hadn’t backed off. He could smell his...what? Body wash? Detergent maybe? The scent was overwhelming, and so were everybody’s eyes. It was getting hard to breathe, hard to focus on Aomine’s words over the piston of his heartbeat. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

 

Pushing past Aomine, Kagami stumbled towards the exit.

 

…

 

Aomine found him twenty minutes later, sitting at an empty bus stop. 

 

“You okay?”

 

Unclenching his fists, Kagami nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, I got..that happens sometimes.”

 

Aomine shrugged. “I hate shopping anyway. Wanna go shoot hoops or something?”

 

“I think I’ll just go home.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yes.” Annoyance coiled in Kagami’s gut. Aomine could take his pity and shove it up his ass.

 

“Suit yourself. I’ll walk you to the station.”

 

Pushing off the wall, Aomine started walking, leaving no choice but for Kagami to trail after him. From behind, he noticed that his ears were red. Probably from the cold. God, he felt like shit. This kind of…thing—the building, blinding terror that everyone was staring at him, that they saw every irredeemably wrong thing about him and the fearful certainty that his world was a moment from shaking apart--had started in middle school. He would ask to go to the bathroom and then huddle in the furthest stall, shuddering and clawing at his chest until it felt less tight. He was found out by Tatsuya who, while kind enough not to spread the story to their classmates, still reported it to the school’s guidance counselor. This led to a temporarily strained friendship and three months of excruciatingly embarrassing counseling sessions where he learned a bunch of medical jargon to describe the things he felt as well as what he had to admit—years later, naturally—were some really helpful coping techniques.

 

Things got better in high school in conjunction with his improved English—and becoming stupidly good at basketball hadn’t hurt, either. Through the sport, Kagami discovered a confident, brash, and stubbornly enthusiastic side to himself that managed to charm people without letting them know too much. It wasn’t a lie, _per se_ , to claim this as the entirety of his personality. Just a partial omission of the truth.

 

But, what with dropping out of college and falling out with his dad, the truth was coming out. Kagami hadn’t had a panic attack in years.

 

Maybe he should talk to Kuroko about it. Hell, even Aomine would likely be sympathetic. Probably.

 

When he got home, Kagami left the lights off and spread out on the sofa. He imagined sinking into the cushions beneath him, merging with his apartment’s stillness until his body and brain came to a halt. Hours bled away. The shadows on the ceiling stretched and darkened until grayscale slipped into black, and still he stared up—unsleeping, breathing slowly. He didn’t feel calm--he felt drained. Drained was better than afraid, though, better than the synaptic firing of fear that tricked the bright-eyed, animal part of his brain into thinking he was in danger when all he was really doing was shopping for shoes at a fucking shopping mall.

 

Shit. Of all people, why did Aomine have to be the one who'd witnessed it?

 

…

 

“Whose car is this? Did you steal it?”

 

It had been two days since the incident in Shibuya, and Kagami was still not in the mood.

 

Aomine, who was standing in front of a banged up Ford Festiva, rolled his eyes. “It’s Kise’s, dumbass, and do not tell him what a piece of shit it is. He’s _attached_.”

 

Irrational attachment was the only reason anyone would bother preserving such a rust bucket.

 

“Okay. But, like, what are you doing with it? Currently. At 7 a.m. in front of my apartment.”

 

“Just get in,” Aomine groused. “I told her we’d be there by lunch.”

 

“Told who?”

 

“My gran.”

 

“So, to be clear, you dragged me out of bed and forced me to pack a bag so that we could get into Kise’s deathtrap of a car to visit your grandmother, whom I’ve never met, in…in…”

 

“In Gifu.”

 

“In fucking Gifu! What about my job?”

 

“You have every third weekend off.”

 

“How do you—I could have had plans!”

 

“Do you?”

 

“…shut up.”

 

Aomine pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stay home, then, if it's such an insult to your sensibilities. It's not like I give a shit.”

 

Kind of looked like he did, though. If that stormy expression was anything to go by.

 

“God, you’re such a baby.” Shoving past him, Kagami jerked the door open and plopped down in the passenger seat. He could actually feel the cramped car buckle a bit beneath his weight. “I swear to god,” he said, glaring at Aomine over the gym bag cradled awkwardly in his arms, “if we break down and get stranded in the mountains, I’m going full Donner party on your ass.”

 

Aomine just smirked. He probably didn’t get that reference.

 

…

 

It turned out that Aomine wasn’t such a terrible driver, and, besides having to fight the urge to stop and put the Festiva out of its misery every time it wheezed its way up a hill, Kagami found the six hours they were stuck in the car together almost bearable. He wasn’t really sure what had brought on Aomine’s impulsive decision to drag him along to his grandmother’s home in the country, but once his initial annoyance had worn off, Kagami couldn’t say he minded. It beat being trapped in his apartment.

 

The last hour of the drive was on a steep dirt road that crept like a winding, potholed snake into the mountains. The area was so heavily wooded that Kagami couldn’t see too far into them.

 

“This place is creepy as hell.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

 

Gazing into the shadows beyond the trees, Kagami didn’t think he was being dramatic at all. Who knew what kind of terrifying wild animals were lurking just out of sight? Boars? Bears? _Slenderman?_

 

He shuddered.

 

When they finally reached the house, Kagami was well and truly ready to get out of the forest. Aomine’s grandmother lived on a couple of acres in a hollow that had been carved out of the surrounding trees. At the center of the clearing was a ramshackle farmhouse with walls that had probably once been white and a roof missing a few too many tiles. The yard was likewise a complete disaster, full of clutter—rusted car parts, plastic furniture, a hodgepodge of crumbling  _tōrō_ and faded garden gnomes--and standing in the midst of all of it with her hands planted on her hips was an old woman, all of five feet tall, with Aomine’s tan skin and dour expression.

 

Aomine parked the car, and they both got out. “Hey Gran,” he said, while Kagami stood awkwardly behind him.

 

“Who said you could bring a guest?”

 

“Uh, pretty sure I texted you.”

 

The old woman, who was puffing away on a bamboo pipe, exhaled a cloud of acrid, disdainful smoke. “Don’t have a cellphone.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Aomine didn’t look particularly bothered about his oversight. Instead, he pulled the grumpy old woman into a hug and muttered something into her ear.

 

Whatever he said must have worked because, with a beleaguered sigh, she turned to Kagami. “Well, don’t just stand there. Grab your bag an' come inside.”

 

…

 

The home’s interior consisted of a small entryway where they left their shoes and a series of tatami-floored rooms connected by a long corridor, almost like an inn. At the end of the corridor was a kitchen with stone flooring kept warm by stove-heated water pumped up from below. The house was every bit as untidy and cramped as Aomine’s apartment and, just like in Aomine’s apartment, Kagami had to fight the urge to start compulsively cleaning it.

 

Aomine’s grandmother set them up with futons in the guest room and instructed them to wash and then come to the kitchen for a late lunch.

 

“Be real with me,” Kagami said as he pulled off his shirt and sprayed on some fresh deodorant. “Is she gonna kill me in my sleep?”

 

“Nah, I think she likes you.”

 

Kagami wasn’t so sure.

 

He was even less sure when he entered the kitchen to find a massive, shaggy dog gazing at him from the braided rug in front of the fridge.

 

Aomine gave him a weird look. “You okay, buddy?”

 

“Y-yeah. I just, I think I’ll eat over here.”

 

“Um. You’re kind of plastered against the wall, though.”

 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool.”

 

“Should I put the dog out?”

 

"No way, bro. Dog are great. Real cute. Not terrifying at all."

 

"Gran!" Aomine shrieked. "I'm putting Haruki outside!"

 

"Oh no you don't!" The old woman's voice echoed from somewhere in the house. "Haruki always sits with me at meals!"

 

"Yeah, well not today!"

 

"Put that dog outside, and you can drive your sorry ass back to Tokyo!"

 

"But Kagami's scared of 'em!"

 

"Scared of Haruki?"

 

"Scared of all dogs I think!"

 

With a soft groan, Kagami sank slowly to his knees.

 

"That's stupid! Why?"

 

"Dunno! Must be childhood trauma or something!" He turned to Kagami. " _Is it_ childhood trauma?"

 

Kagami covered his face with his hands and didn't remove them until Haruki was outside and both Aomine and his grandmother were seated peacefully at the table.

 

…

 

Lunch--and the dinner that followed it--turned out to be excellent, and Kagami actually managed to ingratiate himself to the old woman by asking her approximately one million questions about how she got her miso so perfect and if she would give him the recipe to her pickled daikon. He also thoroughly enjoyed the wealth of embarrassing stories she told about Aomine's childhood. 

 

After eating, they brought some folding chairs out to the fire pit, got a flame going, and sat around it sipping from carafes of hot sake. With the rice wine sitting warm in his belly, Kagami found that he didn't mind the cold so much, or the hulking shadows of the trees that surrounded them, or even Haruki glowering at him from the porch. He was content to remain wrapped up in a musty wool blanket, watching the flames turn the wood black and silver as Aomine and his grandmother's voices drifted in and out. Aomine's way of talking was a little different here, he noticed--rough but also sort of lilting, a countryside dialect coaxed out by his grandmother's.

 

"Your father contacted me the other day."

 

"Oh," Aomine said. "Huh."

 

"He wants to know if I'm plannin' to sell the house. I told 'im to go to hell."

 

"Bet he was thrilled to hear that."

 

"I was born here, an' I'll die here."

 

"I thought you were born in Ibigawa."

 

"Only technically."

 

Aomine huffed a low, raspy laugh. "I haven't talked to him in ages. Mom, either."

 

"You always did rub 'im the wrong way."

 

"Yeah, guess so."

 

The old woman snorted and patted at her pockets until she came up with her pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. "Must have been rough on 'im, havin' a son that turned out just as stubborn as his ma."

 

"Yeah, well that's the least of his complaints about me."

 

There was a tightness in his words that pulled at Kagami just a little.

 

Frowning, Aomine snatched the pipe out of the old woman's hands. "Doctor told yah to quit."

 

"Oh, screw 'im! I been smokin' 80 years, an' ain't nothin' wrong with me."

 

"Gran, you're 76."

 

"I didn't realize you were a mathematician." Tucking the tobacco back into her shirt, she reached out and ruffled Aomine's hair. "Brat." 

 

"Hag." Aomine leaned into her touch.

 

For his part, Kagami did his best not to move. He didn't want to disturb it--this moment of softness that seemed so fragile, so fleeting somehow.

  

...

 

Around 1 a.m., Aomine prodded him awake.

 

"Hey," he said. "Kagami, hey."

 

"Jesus, I'm gonna kill you."

 

"Well kill me  _quietly_. I don't wanna wake my gran."

 

Kagami sat up abruptly and chucked his pillow at Aomine's head. "What do you _want_?"

 

"Let's take a hike."

 

"Aomine."

 

With a frustrated sigh, Aomine pulled his jacket on over his sweatshirt and tossed Kagami's at the foot of his futon. "It's a secret. You'll see when we get there."

 

Thanks to Kise, he knew what kind of porn Aomine liked. That had been enough to turn him off of all his secrets.

 

This did nothing to explain why he pulled on his coat and shoes and followed Aomine out into the cold. 

 

In the shaky glow of his phone’s reading light, Kagami watched Aomine bypass the fire pit and garden, heading straight for the trees.

 

"You're kidding me."

 

"Turn around if you're too scared. I'm sure Haruki could use the company."

 

"Fuck you."

 

"You already did. Didn't work out so well for either of us."

 

That shut Kagami up, and they proceeded to stomp and trip and shiver their way through the woods.

 

Half an hour passed.

 

“You sure you know where we’re going?”

 

“I came here a million times as a kid. It’s just harder in the dark.”

 

“You don’t say.”

 

“Shut up, ass hat. We’re almost there.”

 

They were, thankfully. After backtracking twice and shoving through a bunch of prickly underbrush, they came upon a small stream—which Aomine seemed suspiciously relieved to have found.

 

So much for knowing where the fuck he was.

 

Kagami didn’t have time to be mad though because the stream led up a hill to an outcropping of rock. And at the base of the rock was a hot spring. Like, a hot spring straight out of some fantasy anime--a deep, completely natural pool of water cradled by mossy stones and shrouded in the mist rising off its surface.

 

“Spooky, right? When we were kids, I convinced Satsuki it was haunted.”

 

Kagami rolled his eyes. “You would.” He was about to say something to the effect of ‘why would Momoi be scared of ghosts when she’s engaged to one’ when he was distracted by the other unzipping his jacket. And removing his jacket. And the sweatshirt under that. Also, his pants.

 

Right. Hot springs. Naked. That was a thing.

 

Praying the darkness would conceal him, Kagami slipped out of his clothes as well. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so awkward. The shadows hid just about everything, and it wasn’t as if Aomine hadn’t already seen him nude in great detail, but the circumstances had been different then. What if things got weird?

 

Aomine was too focused on getting in the water to notice Kagami’s internal struggle. Treading carefully over the slick stones, he eased himself into the pool with a contented sigh. Stealing himself against the cold and his own nerves, Kagami dropped his boxers and waddled in after him. The second his legs sank into the pool, he gasped. The water just pushed the edge of too hot, but after being trapped in the car for so long and then traipsing through the woods, his muscles didn't mind a bit. The pool was perfect, but as he settled into a sitting position, Kagami noticed that it was kind of--.

 

“Huh,” Aomine said as their shins bumped against each other. “It’s smaller than I remember.”

 

“Huh." _Huh, indeed._

 

Aomine just shrugged. How could he be so relaxed about this? Well, it wasn’t as if he exactly came across as shy, but…yeah. Okay. Moving on. Not a great train of thought. Determined to relax, Kagami tilted his head back and look up an--.

 

Oh. Well shit. 

 

He hadn't seen so many stars since the summer he'd driven to Zion with Tatsuya and Alex. They had camped next to a Joshua tree, and after a day spent trying not to die of dehydration while scrabbling over red stones in the desert, they had gotten drunk off skunky, lukewarm beer and looked up.

 

Kagami had just turned eighteen then and still remembered how lonely he had felt, how the first guy he’d had the courage to ask out had slept with him once and disappeared, how his mom had stopped answering his calls, and how, even though his friends would have tried their best to understand, Kagami hadn’t known how to put his emotions into words. The problem wasn’t that he had been angry or sad. He'd just been nothing. Not thrilled to have graduated high school. Not pissed that his parents were jerks. Usually, he cared about things—basketball, his friends, new food trucks. But tit had been a difficult summer, and at eighteen Kagami hadn’t been equipped to deal with any of it, so he'd just laughed and shot hoops and buried the fear that he didn't have words for somewhere deep.

 

But that night in Utah, surrounded by sand, wind, and stars, Kagami had thought that if life could exist in the desert, if the night sky was a window back in time, and if he could make it 427 fucking miles in a car with Alex’s smelly feet and Tatsuya’s regrettable taste in music, then surely he could carve out a little place in the Universe just for him.

 

He was wiser now, knew better than to think that a sense of belonging was a concrete place you could somehow arrive at, but staring up at the stars now, naked in the dark with his knees knocking against a casual fuck turned friend...or something, Kagami glimpsed a ghost of the certainty he had felt in Utah.

 

…

 

Kagami woke up early the next morning with a dry throat and a kink in his back from the lumpy futon. They hadn't returned to the house until almost 5 a.m., but he felt weirdly alert. Maybe it was all the fresh air and pastoral ease of country living. Either way, Kagami didn’t have much interest in watching Aomine drool into his pillow, so he made his way down the hall.

 

Aomine’s grandmother was already in the kitchen spooning rice into a bowl. The radio played softly in the background, and Haruki was nowhere to be seen. “You’re up early,” she grunted.

 

“Can’t say the same for your grandson.”

 

“He always has been a lazy brat.”

 

“And a dirty one. He only brought one pair of socks.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Motioning for Kagami to sit, the old women placed dishes of miso soup and rice on the table in front of him. “Eat while it’s hot.”

 

As Kagami ate, the woman puttered about, occasionally commenting on something the radio announcer said about the weather or local news. She didn’t pay him much attention, and he couldn’t say he minded. It was nice to exist in someone’s presence without being expected to say anything.

 

After organizing the kitchen to her liking—a system which was not immediately clear since, if anything, the counters looked more chaotic than they had to start with—Aomine’s grandmother pulled on some gum boots and looked at him expectantly. “Well, seeing as yeh’ve eaten me out of house an' home, I don’t suppose a little manual labor is too much to ask.”

 

After glancing about surreptitiously to ensure Haruki was on the other side of the yard, Kagami followed her out into the garden. Illuminated by the morning light filtering through the trees, the rundown yard seemed equal parts dystopic wonderland and immitigable safety hazard. No wonder Aomine had such fond memories of the place. Kagami’s childhood self was jealous.

 

The manual labor he had been promised turned out to be digging out weeds in the vegetable garden. The soil was packed down and half frozen, making the task rather thankless on the whole.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to do this in the fall?” Kagami asked. “You know, before the ground freezes?”

 

With a grunt, the old woman tugged loose a dead tomato plant and threw it on the compost heap. “Didn’t feel like doin’ it in the fall. Now quit complainin’ an' hand me that spade.”

 

Kagami chuckled, earning a gardening glove being chucked at his face.

 

“What’re you laughin’ at?”

 

“I was just thinking that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

 

With a huff, the old woman paused and pulled out her pipe from some invisible pocket in her jacket. “Guess so,” she conceded, packing the tobacco with a dexterity that belied her gnarled fingers. “Prob’ly why we both drive his father crazy.”

 

“Your son, you mean?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“He, uh, doesn’t seem to talk to his parents much. I thought maybe it was because of--.”

 

“Him bein’ gay.”

 

“Bi, actually.”

 

“Doesn’t matter to his parents either way. Maybe if he’d been ashamed they’d have forgiven him, but he wasn't. So they dropped him just like that.”

 

Kagami gave a pile of rhubarb leaves a hefty thwack. “But you didn’t.”

 

Lighting her pipe, Aomine’s gran exhaled a cloud of foul smoke. “Like you said. Apple trees an' all that.”

 

Kagami smiled and turned to a particularly pernicious patch of knotweed. He thought that was the end of the conversation, but when he straightened to wipe his brow, he found the old woman fixing him with a strange look. “My whole life, I never needed anyone,” she said in a sudden rush. “Growin’ up poor, I always figured I’d be fine on my own. An' I was. I was smart enough an' didn’t take nobody’s shit, and so I did okay, but then I met Daiki’s granddad.”

 

"Um." Kagami wasn't so good at reading subtext.

 

“Point is, I never needed no one,” the old woman continued, pausing briefly to clear her throat and spit. “But it was nice, sometimes, havin’ him.”

 

Kagami swallowed. “I didn’t--.”

 

“Gran! What the hell!” They both turned to find Aomine standing on the porch in boxers and a ratty sweater with an accusing finger pointed at his grandmother. “Don’t make him do your yard work. Jesus!”

 

“Well who the hell is supposed to do it with your lazy ass sleepin’ in past noon?”

 

"Up now, ain't I? And what did I say about smoking!"

 

"The only thing that can kill me is me. Write _that_ in my obituary!”

 

Despite his outrage, Aomine was also roped into helping with the garden, and they spent the better part of the morning pulling weeds.

 

...

 

They put off leaving until almost 3 p.m., both seemingly reluctant to return to the real world and their real problems. When they finally did load their bags into the Festiva, Kagami watched Aomine hug his grandmother goodbye. It real was a charming picture, seeing the old woman stand on her toes to embrace her giant doofus of a grandchild.

 

When it was his turn to say goodbye, Kagami bowed awkwardly and promised to visit again.

 

Aomine’s grandmother pinched his cheek. “I hope you do. An' bring Satsuki along next time. She still takin' care of you, I'm guessin'."

 

“Gran, I’m 25. I take care of myself just fine."

 

"Bullshit," the old woman and Kagami said in unison.

 

...

 

They didn't talk much on the way home. They were both tired, and Kagami was already dreading going into work tomorrow morning. Not like he hated the job. It was just that he wanted to preserve the peace he'd felt in Gifu as long as possible.

 

It was late when they finally pulled up outside of Kagami's apartment. He shouldered his bag.

 

"See you on the court, loser."

 

"Hey," Aomine replied. "Uh, wait a sec."

 

"Yeah?"

 

Aomine rubbed the back of his neck, gaze resting on the steering wheel. "You good? Now, I mean. You had a good time?" 

 

Kagami smiled. "Yeah, dude. It was exactly what I needed."

 

"Right." Aomine smiled back but still wouldn't look at him. "Cool."

 

As he lied in bed that night, it struck Kagami that Aomine Daiki made a much better friend than he did a fuck buddy.


	4. I don't wanna talk about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get drunk, mostly. 
> 
> Warning: This chapter (as well as upcoming ones) deals with stereotypes surrounding bisexual people and slut-shaming. The views expressed are not mine. Also, (SPOILER ALERT) -- TW nonconsensual kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Thanks as always for the patience and for your stellar support. I'm not always confident in my writing, but your comments mean the world to me. There's a lot I want to say about insecurity in this fic. With Kagami, it's all about hiding his social anxiety and feeling like he doesn't fit anywhere, and with Aomine, it's about not letting people in because he's afraid they won't think much of what they find. These are issues that I think a lot of people, myself included, can relate to. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Kagami _hated_ clubbing.

 

And yet, here he was, crammed at a table between Kuroko and Kise, trying to hear what the model was blabbing about over excruciatingly loud music.

 

“…and this DJ is so…at an after party I went to in Milan…the way he mixes…”

 

Kagami wasn’t about to pretend he could tell the difference between good and bad EDM. The only reason he was here was because Momoi had made Kuroko come, and Kuroko hadn’t wanted to be the only one there who was absolutely miserable. And so here he was, pretending to enjoy the VIP table and bottle service they had gotten for free because of Kise’s model status and trying to ignore how the overwhelming heat and lights and sounds and _people_ made his skin itch.

 

It wasn’t so bad, though. At least they had a table, so he wasn’t being jostled by strangers.

 

He scanned the room until his eyes lit upon a familiar head of bubblegum pink hair. Momoi was obviously in her element, chatting with everyone in sight and forcing Riko to pose with her for, like, a million selfies. Kuroko and she certainly made an odd pair, but he supposed their dynamic could make sense. If you squinted.

 

Kagami’s phone buzzed, and he looked down to find a message from Aomine.

 

Ho-mine:

 

_get kise they wnt let me in_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_ur fault for showing up late_

 

ho-mine:

 

_Fck u_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_just msg Kise urself_

 

ho-mine:

 

_wnt rply_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_well sorry shit stain_

 

ho-mine:

 

_FUCK YOU_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_jesus calm ur tits. one sec_

 

“Hey Kise, Aomine’s stuck at the door.”

 

The blond fished his phone out of his pocket, stared at the notifications on his screen, and performed what Kagami considered to be an unnecessarily theatrical double take. “Oh nooo. I’ll be right back!”

 

Once Kise had left, Kagami finally had room to stretch his legs. Being tall had its advantages, but adequate legroom was never one of them.

 

His phone buzzed again.

 

Kuro-the-friendly-ghost:

 

_So, how was Gifu?_

 

Kagami turned to his friend with a raised eyebrow.

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_are u srsly texting me rn?_

 

Kuro-the-friendly-ghost:

 

_Vocal strain isn’t healthy. So, how was it?_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_fine I guess_

 

Kuro-the-friendly-ghost:

 

_He told me you’ve been hanging out a lot. As friends._

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_I guess he’s not shitty all the time_

 

Kuro-the friendly-ghost:

 

_But you haven’t…gone beyond that?_

 

tonytonytaiga:

 

_dude, ellipses are annoying_

_also no_

 

Kagami really didn’t like the cryptic look Kuroko was giving him. If he had something to say—or type—he wished that he’d just get on with it.

 

“Kurokoooo. Kagamiiii! Look who I found!”

 

Turning, they saw Kise waving frantically as he dragged an obviously irritated Aomine to their table.

 

“Security here is the fucking worst.”

 

Kise rolled his eyes. “That’s because you were rude.”

 

“No, it’s because you forgot to put my name on the list!”

 

“I didn’t think you were coming! You had work!”

 

“Well, I got off early!”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time. HA!”

 

“Whatever, like you would know. Hey Tetsu. Kagami. Let’s do shots.”

 

Aomine then proceeded to peel off his oversized winter jacket, and Kagami’s brain kind of screeched to a halt.

 

Aomine always looked good, but right now he looked really, really good. Not that the idiot was probably trying or anything. It’s just that he was wearing real trousers for once, and they were black and tight across his thighs in a way that made Kagami’s mind go kind of fuzzy. The white v-neck was nothing to shake a stick at, either.

 

But no. Nope. Absolutely not. Not happening.

 

Trying to distract himself from a detailed fantasy concerning what he’d like to do to Aomine’s perfect collarbones, Kagami grabbed a bottle of vodka from the ice bucket and, as requested, poured them all some pretty generous shots. This garnered a grin of approval from Aomine and incredulous glances from Kise and Kuroko. They all knocked back the drinks, though, and Kagami prayed that the burn in his throat would flush out his unwanted thoughts.

 

…

 

One hour and three drinks later, Kagami found himself on a balcony overlooking the main dance floor, trying dutifully to listen to Momoi’s detailed account of current statistical trends in hockey.

 

Glancing away from her for a moment to observe the crowd below, he caught sight of Aomine sandwiched between a guy with a lime green undercut and a curvy girl covered in glitter. He was obviously enjoying himself and, if his sloppy grin was anything to go by, obviously shitfaced as well. He’d polished off a good portion of the vodka, and Kagami was pretty sure the green-haired guy had bought him some drinks as well.

 

“I guess you’ve never seen Daiki when he goes out like this.”

 

Kagami turned back to Momoi. Her smile was playful, but there was an edge to the way she looked up at him that reminded him, weirdly enough, of Kuroko when he was being particularly calculating.

 

“Yeah, he, uh, seems to be getting a lot of attention.”

 

“Daiki needs more attention than most people. He’s always been like that.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

“You have no idea. When we were kids, he used to run away from home all the time. They’d find him in the weirdest places.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“I think he wanted to make sure someone would look for him.”

 

Okay, that was…heavy. Momoi seemed to sense Kagami’s awkwardness because she immediately brought up a much more ridiculous childhood story involving bees, but he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had come over him.

 

Aomine was still dancing with the same pair, breaking into a grin as the girl whispered something in his ear. Then, they were making out, with the green-haired guy plastered against Aomine’s back, rubbing up against his ass like his life depended on it.

 

Kagami refused to be jealous.

 

“Check out that guy.” Someone standing a few feet away pointed in Aomine’s direction before turning to his friend. “I’ve seen him out before. He’ll sleep with anyone. Girl. Guy. Doesn’t matter.”

 

Momoi stiffened.

 

The other guy shrugged. “He’s hot, so he might as well share it, yeah?”

 

“No way, bro. You gotta have standards. I mean, what if he’s, like, caught something?”

 

“That’s why you wear a—uh, hey buddy. You need something?”

 

Kagami wasn’t aware of actually moving. All he knew was that he was suddenly using all of his height to tower over them. “Yeah. I need you to watch your mouth.”

 

The second guy looked intimidated, but the one who’d pointed out Aomine in the first place was apparently too drunk to realize Kagami was twice his size. “Why? Is that slut your boyfriend?”

 

“I said watch your fucking mouth.”

 

“You should probably watch his mouth. Who knows where it’s—.”

 

WHACK.

 

Whatever the asshole had been about to say was lost as Momoi punched him in the face.

 

…

 

They were kicked out, naturally—Momoi because she’d broken the guy’s nose and Kagami because he’d looked like he wanted to break more than that.

 

Momoi was busy examining her bruised knuckles, so Kagami sent Kuroko a text and then resigned himself to useless shivering as he waited for his friend to bring their coats. How was it almost April?

 

“Your hand okay?”

 

“It’s fine.” Momoi smiled at him, but it drooped a bit too quickly. “I can’t believe I hit him. I’ve never hit anyone in my life.”

 

“Someone had to.”

 

“I hate when people say stuff like that,” she continued. “It’s none of their business what Daiki does.”

 

“Can’t argue there.”

 

Moments later Kuroko emerged, looking worried, and that cheerfulness that Kagami had begun to realize was a bit of a front came back into Momoi’s expression. “What happened to your hand?” Kuroko asked as he helped her into her jacket.

 

“It’s nothing, babe! Sweet of you to worry, though.”

 

“Momoi started a fight.”

 

“Come again?”

 

“Don’t worry, Tetsu. I won!”

 

Kagami grinned, savoring the memory of the guy’s nose spouting blood all over his polo. “She really did.”

 

Just then, Aomine burst out the door—green-haired, glittery duo in tow. When he saw them, his face broke into a broad smile. “What are you assholes doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”

 

Momoi hid her hand behind her back.

 

Kagami rolled his eyes all the way back to California.

 

“These two got kicked out,” Kuroko replied, being sensible.

 

“What? Oh my god, I told you security here is lame.” The bouncer glared at Aomine from the door. “You should go to the place with the neon cactus sign around the corner. Tell the bartender you know me. He and I are tiiight.”

 

“We’ll consider it,” Kuroko said. “Would you and your new friends like to join us?”

 

“Nah, we’re gonna go have a threesome. See ya!”

 

Kagami watched them trundle off to the corner to catch a cab.

 

Yeah, he really hated clubbing.

 

…

 

Despite being exhausted, Kagami woke up early the next morning. He couldn’t get back to sleep, so he showered and, because he had nothing better to do, cleaned his apartment. Maybe if he kept busy he wouldn’t end up thinking about last night and how shitty he’d felt watching Aomine go home with people who weren’t hi…with strangers.

 

Stranger danger. Obviously.

 

At 3 p.m. his doorbell buzzed, and on the security screen, Kagami found himself staring at the last person he wanted to see.

 

He turned on the intercom.

 

“Aomine, what the hell are you doing here?”

 

_“It’s cold. Just buzz me in.”_

 

…

 

“You look like shit.”

 

“Rude.” With a feeble groan, Aomine rolled over on the couch so he was facing away from Kagami.

 

Kagami frowned. “Why are you here if you feel so terrible?”

 

“Your place was closer. Also, I want you to cook for me.”

 

“I’m not your personal chef, you know.” Even as he said this, Kagami was moving towards the kitchenette.

 

“Don’t make anything spicy. My stomach can’t handle it right now.”

 

Kagami settled on hash browns. Nothing like good, greasy American breakfast food when you felt like shit. He stole small glances at Aomine as he worked. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, with the addition of some questionable stains, and his hair and skin had taken on a decidedly greasy sheen.

 

“So, how was your threesome?”

 

Aomine smirked. “Fucking awesome. I could barely walk afterwards.”

 

“Probably would have been more awesome if you hadn’t been so drunk.”

 

“Bitch, I don’t need your judgment.”

 

“It’s just an observation. You want ketchup?”

 

“No. Ketchup’s gross.”

 

“You take that back.”

 

The look of sheer gratitude on Aomine’s face when he handed him his food sent a surge of warmth through Kagami’s chest. He might not have been the one to take Aomine home last night, but he was still the one he’d come to after. Speaking of which…

 

“So you gonna see them again?”

 

Aomine shook his head. “Don’t think so. They said bringing in a third person was just a thing they do sometimes to keep things interesting.”

 

“They were in a relationship?”

 

“Yeah, like, a legit one. They have a dog and everything.”

 

“I’m surprised you stuck around long enough to notice that.” Shit. That had sounded kind of mean.

 

Aomine didn’t look mad though. Instead, he shrugged and set his half eaten food down on the coffee table. “You know how I am,” he said, entirely too self-deprecatingly for Kagami’s liking. “Besides, why would I stay there? You’re a way better cook.” He looked up at Kagami and gave him a tight smile.

 

Kagami rolled his eyes. He’d been rolling his eyes about two-hundred percent more since meeting Aomine. ”It’s just, I mean, Momoi and I heard some people at the club last night talking about you.”

 

“Uh, what?”

 

Kagami flushed. “It’s nothing!”

 

Except apparently it was because Aomine was radiating that pretend nonchalance he reserved only for when he was really pissed. “They call me a slut or something?” His lips curled. “They make you embarrassed to—?”

 

“Fuck you. I’m not embarrassed of shit.” Kagami ground his teeth. “Just forget it.”

 

…

 

After eating, Aomine showered without asking permission and then took a nap. Upon waking, he seemed to have recovered his good mood and puttered around for a few hours, prattling about nothing in particular as Kagami tried to focus on some cooking shows. He was handsy and petulant and sort of needy, and it should have been the most annoying thing in the fucking Universe, but all Kagami could think about was how glad he was that Aomine was here and not alone in his apartment.

 

_Daiki needs more attention than most people._

 

If Aomine was lonely and not just horny, why didn’t he just date someone properly? …was what Kagami had been trying to say when he’d accidentally pissed him off.

 

He glanced over at Aomine, who was fiddling with the sleeves of a blue sweater he’d nicked from Kagami’s closet. “My gran keeps talking about you,” Aomine said. “Guess you made an impression.”

 

“Grandparents love me.”

 

“Gee, must be on account of your modesty.”

 

“You’re one to talk.”

 

“Ha fucking ha.” Leaning back on the sofa, Aomine stretched until his back cracked, affording Kagami a brief glimpse of his abs.

 

On second thought, Aomine should stay single. Like, forever, preferably. He should stay single and hang out with Kagami all day, and Kagami could cook for him, and Aomine could wear his clothes and pout all cute and shit when the curry was too spicy. After all, who needed a relationship when you could be in a committed bromance?

 

Except that wasn’t quite right.

 

It wasn’t quite right because Kagami definitely, one hundred percent didn’t want to be bros with Aomine.

 

He wanted to fuck him.

 

And kiss him.

 

And talk about their feelings, probably.

 

He wanted to date Aomine, and that was going to be a big fucking problem because Kagami had been the one who had said no to the flirting. He’d been the one who’d told Aomine he didn’t have to resort to sex just so people would hang out with him.

 

They were friends. That’s why Aomine had come to his place rather than spend a hung over Sunday all alone. Besides, Kagami wouldn’t be able to handle it if he pushed him away like he had when they’d hooked up.

 

“Hey.” Aomine looked up at him from his phone. “You hear about O.J. Simpson? He basically confessed to those murders.”

 

“Shit, really?”

 

“Yeah. World’s pretty fucked, I guess.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Yeah, it fucking was.

 

…

 

Luckily—or perhaps unluckily—he didn’t see Aomine much for the next few weeks. The idiot had a bunch of final exams and essays due at the end of May, so he’d sequestered himself in his apartment like some kind of monk to study.

 

But whatever. It wasn’t like Kagami didn’t have shit to do. He was basically working full time at the ramen shop now, and to be honest he didn’t mind it as much as he had at first. The owner wasn’t so bad, and Kagami got all the free ramen he could eat. He’d given up on culinary school at this point. He hadn’t formally withdrawn yet, but he still had a month to do so and get his deposit back. The extra money would be a big help, but Kagami just…he just hadn’t gotten around to filling out the paperwork. He would, though. Maybe next week.

 

He still hadn’t told anyone about his money troubles, either. Kuroko probably would have been a good person to talk it out with, but he and Momoi had been so busy planning for the wedding that Kagami felt guilty – not to mention embarrassed – unloading all his baggage on his friend.

 

It was his own fault, and he would handle it.

 

Which was why he was sitting up late on Monday night in nothing but his boxers, eating fistfuls of kettle chips as he scrolled through apartment listings. There wasn’t much in his price range. He figured that if he didn’t find something by the end of the month he could opt for one of those cheap private dorms near one of the universities. He would have to share a kitchen, but he couldn't afford to be choosy knowing his credit card would be maxed out after paying next month’s rent.

 

So, yeah. Kagami was pretty much out of options.

 

He was stress eating his way through an entire box of cereal when his phone lit up.

 

The fuck? Since when did Aomine actually call anyone? He could barely be bothered to answer messages half the time.

 

Kagami picked up his phone and slid his thumb across the screen. “Dude. It’s one a.m.”

 

_“Whatever. You were awake.”_

 

“Oh my god _, fine_. What do you want?”

 

There was static on the other line. Kagami thought he heard someone laughing in the background.

 

_“I, uh, got my results.”_

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

_“From the stats test.”_

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

_“I failed.”_

 

“Oh.”

 

_“It was worth, like, eighty percent of the grade, so that’s, um, pretty much it for me.”_

 

“Shit, dude. That really sucks.”

 

_“Yeah.”_

 

Kagami cleared his throat. “You gonna take the class again?”

 

Aomine snorted. It sounded really unattractive on the phone. _“Kinda be like throwing money in a black hole, don’t you think?”_

 

“Even you’re not that dense.” Kagami had always thought it would be vindicating to see Aomine actually do poorly at something, but the reality was kind of a let down. “Hey man," he said, "where’re you at? I’ll buy you a beer.”

 

…

 

Three hours later, Kagami finally admitted to himself that this kind-hearted gesture had been a terrible mistake. One beer had turned into three which had turned into shots which had turned into them in a karaoke room in Roppongi at 4 a.m. with three guys they’d met at a convenience store and a couple of female exchange students from Ohio. Aomine was sitting on one of the girl’s laps, holding a microphone in one hand and a long island iced tea in the other as he treated them to a terrible rendition of “Bodak Yellow”. His shirt had disappeared at some point, and no one seemed all that concerned with finding it. Guzzling what was by no means his first drink of the evening, Kagami didn’t even pretend not to be staring at his nipples.

 

The other girl and two of the guys, who were dressed kind of like host club rejects, were playing some sort of confusing drinking game. The third man was slumped in the booth next to Kagami, clutching a tambourine but making no attempt to participate. He gazed blearily at Kagami.

 

“Wha’s wrong?”

 

Kagami gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”

 

“Nah yer not. Is it ‘cause yer boyfriend’s bein’ a ho?”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Kind of a ho, though.

 

“Yer fuckin’ though, right?”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“Not even once?”

 

“Once.”

 

“An’ it was no good? With _that_ guy?”

 

“It’s seriously none of your business.”

 

The guy smirked. “Maybe yer the one who’s bad in bed.”

 

“No way! Sex with Kagami is the best!” Aomine lunged across the table like a drunken lemur and pulled Kagami into a one-armed hug.

 

“I don’t wanna smell like a fucking liquor cabinet!” Kagami snapped as his drink sloshed everywhere.

 

“Don’t be so grumpy. I just wanted to tell everyone how much I like your cock.”

 

“Well you’ve told everyone! Mission accomplished!”

 

One of the guys playing the drinking game gave them a look like he thought they should be questioning their values. Which was bullshit. At least Kagami had left the Rod Stewart hair back in the 70s where it belonged.

 

“His cock really is the best,” Aomine continued conversationally as he settled himself on the bench next to Kagami and threw an arm over his shoulder. “Take it from me. I’ve seen a lot of dicks.”

 

“Me, too,” the girl playing the drinking game said. “We should compare notes sometime.”

 

Kagami swiped Aomine's iced tea and started drinking.

 

“She actually does take notes,” her friend added.

 

“What can I say? I’m thorough.”

 

Aomine gave the girl a thumb’s up, and the whole conversation was just stupid enough that Kagami finally snapped. “That’s it. Daiki, we’re going home.”

 

“See!” drunk tambourine guy said. “I knew they were dating.”

 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” Kagami threw some money on the table, grabbed Aomine under the armpits and marched him out.

 

And then marched him back in to get their coats.

 

And steal the rest of tambourine guy’s drink.

 

Because no one called Aomine a ho except for him.

 

Coats on, they were halfway down the block before Aomine managed to get Kagami to stop walking. “Hey, hold up a second.” He looked both drunk and very concerned. “I didn’t fuck up again, right? With what I said?”

 

Kagami sighed. He felt about twice as drunk as Aomine looked and about a hundred times as tired. “No, it’s fine. We both know I wouldn’t be your friend if I valued my dignity. I just wanted to get some air.”

 

Also, he was a possessive, hypocritical, fun-hating bastard who wanted Aomine Daiki all too himself.

 

“Oh, shit. I didn’t think about that. Was it like that one time we went shopping?”

 

Kagami blanched at the memory. “Not like that.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Anyway,” Kagami continued. “I’m gonna head home. You should, too. You’re a sloppy drunk.”

 

“I have literally never been sloppy in my entire life.“

 

“Just remember to hydrate, okay?”

 

“Hey, you’re drunk, too!”

 

“Nope. Unlike you, I know when I—mother _fucker_!” Kagami had very not drunkenly walked into a parking meter. Having fallen flat on his ass, he ignored Aomine cackling above him and stretched out on the sidewalk. This late at night, the city was really quiet. The sidewalk was cold.

 

“No use trying to stargaze, big boy. Too much light pollution.” Hauling him to his feet, Aomine threw an arm around Kagami’s shoulder and began dragging him down the street. “The metro opens in one hour. Think you can make it?”

 

“I guess.” Ignoring how awkwardly close their faces were, Kagami turned and stared at him. Maybe it was the fall or, more likely, the approximately 10,000 units of alcohol he’d had that night, but suddenly he felt all pensive. “Hey,” he said, “I’m really sorry. About that class.”

 

Aomine blinked and then flashed that weird, lopsided smirk he sometimes got. The one he’d had when they'd talked about his threesome. “What are you sorry for, asshole?” He ruffled Kagami’s hair. “It’s not like _you_ failed my stats test.”

 

“Yeah, but I…what do you even want a degree for, man? You’re plenty smart without it.”

 

Aomine snorted, and, yeah. Okay. ‘Smart’ was maybe stretching it, but ‘smart’ wasn’t exactly what Kagami meant.

 

“I dunno, dude,” Aomine said. “I don’t really care if I get a degree or not. It’s just, it’s my dad I guess. When I was a kid, he was always going on about how dumb I was, which is bullshit ‘cause he’s a fucking moron, too. Anyway, I didn’t really care then because all I could think about was basketball and Horikita Mai’s amazing tits, but after I graduated we got in this big fight, and I guess I just wanted to be like ‘fuck you, Dad. I can be smart’, which is, uh, not currently working out.”

 

Something in Aomine’s tone made Kagami want to pet his face, and it was taking all of the sober brain cells he had left to contain himself. “That’s, uh, kind of a labor-intensive ‘fuck you’, isn’t it?”

 

Aomine led him over to some steps. When Kagami stumbled trying to sit down on them, he laughed and laughed. “Oh my god, why did you drink this much?” He took a break from laughing to help Kagami sit properly before plopping down next to him. “It wasn't one of my best decisions,” he said, all serious again. “And that’s saying something.”

 

“Hey, I dropped out of college, too.” Kagami slumped against Aomine’s shoulder. He smelled nice. “My parents’ weren’t thrilled, you know, with me wastin’ all their money.”

 

“Rich bitch.”

 

“Yeah, but ’m _your_ rich bitch.”

 

Aomine laughed, face all sweet and flushed and boyish in a way that made Kagami ache. He wished desperately that he’d chosen differently back in that shitty diner on the shitty day he’d told Aomine they should just be friends. Damn, if he had known the guy hiding under all the bullshit, he would have proposed to Aomine on the fucking spot.

 

“Kagami? Kagami! Hey!”

 

“Wha—?” His vision came back into focus. When had it gone out of focus? “Hey man, quit shakin’ me.”

 

“You’re fucking wasted. I’m just gonna call a taxi.”

 

“No. No, ‘m good like this.” He was, like, so good. Right where he wanted to be, snuggling against Aomine’s shoulder.

 

Aomine went ahead and called the taxi.

 

The sky was starting to lighten at the edges as they waited, wrapping the glass and steel looming over them in shades of velvet gray. He tried to tell Aomine all about it, but the words wouldn’t come out right. That was okay, though, because whatever Kagami had said made Aomine laugh and laugh all over again. He had such a nice laugh, and even though Kagami, himself, didn’t feel like laughing, he wanted desperately to participate.

 

So.

 

He kissed him.


	5. Against the ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kise's too good for all of us, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really sorry for taking ages to update. I was busy, but it's really no excuse. I'll try to be better with upcoming chapters. I also know I haven't been great at communicating, but I really am so grateful to all my readers. It's been kind of a big year for me in a lot of ways, and your support really helps.
> 
> So, about this chapter. 
> 
> First and foremost, the trigger warning: This chapter contains allusions to clinical depression as well as a brief dub-con-ish situation between Aomine and an OMC. 
> 
> And now, my rant: Something that has always struck me about Aomine's character is how many symptoms of depression he exhibits over the course of the manga and anime, whether it be distancing himself from friends, losing interest in things he used to enjoy, or exhibiting fluctuating moods. None of this is addressed directly in KnB, and I'm not really convinced it's intentional on Fujimaki's part, but I think it's really interesting how the other characters frame his behavior pretty much only as it relates to sports. In reality, depression is way more complex than "he'll be cured if he learns to love basketball again", and I wanted to sort of show how a character like Aomine might, more realistically, interact with the illness. To be clear, I'm not knocking KnB or anything like that. I just...I mean shit like character studies are what fanfic is for, yeah?
> 
> Okay, let's get on with it.

...

 

The second he opened his eyes, Kagami was aware of two things.

 

One. He was not in his apartment. He was pretty sure he didn’t have a ceiling fan.

 

Two. He regretted everything.

 

Because there was hung over.

 

And then there was hung over.

 

And he was definitely the second kind.

 

Gathering all his strength, Kagami turned his head to the side. Okay, there was a closet, pile of laundry, Allen Iverson poster…shit. This was Aomine’s studio.

 

Which meant he hadn’t drunkenly hooked up with some random guy. Which was good. But that didn’t explain why he’d drunk so much. What had he been doing last night? Oh, right. His mission to cheer up Aomine. some girls from Columbus, and a pissed off cab driver. Huh. He was pretty sure he’d puked at some point. In the cab? Or maybe a stairwell? Either way, his mouth definitely tasted like sick. And where were his phone and keys?

 

And his pants?

 

“Afternoon, sleeping beauty.”

 

Turning his head slowly so that his brain didn’t dribble out his ears, Kagami found himself face to face with Aomine, who had just walked out of the bathroom. He whispered, “am I dead?”

 

“Nah, but I bet you wish you were.” Walking over, the other sat on the edge of the mattress and handed him a glass of water and some Advil. “I’ve never seen anyone throw up that much.”

 

God. Why.

 

Realizing that he’d have to be vertical if he wanted to drink the water, Kagami pulled himself up and leaned back against the wall. He washed down the painkillers and drained the glass, then set it down so he could let his head fall into both hands.

 

He glared at Aomine from between his fingers. “Why aren’t you dying? You drank more than I did.”

 

“You were the one who told me to hydrate.”

 

“Why didn’t _I_ hydrate?”

 

“Dunno. I bought you a bottle of water, but you said ‘fuck the police’ and poured it into a gutter.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“I filmed it.”

 

“Don’t send it to Kuroko.”

 

“I sent it to Kuroko _and_ Kise.”

 

His life was officially over.

 

“Don’t worry. Kise’s done way worse.” Aomine launched into a story involving Kise and two Russian guys in Phuket, which, true to word, sounded worse.

 

Once Kagami felt strong enough to borrow a pair of basketball shorts—his jeans were in the wash for reasons he didn’t care to think about—he made it across the one-room apartment to the futon, where he collapsed on the musty cushions. Taking a closer look, he saw that Aomine didn’t look so hot, after all.

 

“Uh, thanks for letting me crash here.”

 

The other shrugged and handed him a cup of instant coffee before plopping down on the other side of the futon. “Couldn’t leave you in the gutter, could I? Besides, uh, I know you don’t do stuff like that normally. Going out and getting shitfaced and all that. You were just trying to make me feel better, which was pretty dope, so, um, thanks?”

 

Kagmi cleared his throat. “Hope it worked.”

 

Aomine shrugged, eyes lowered. “I really gotta rethink this whole college thing,” he finally said. “I’m not cut out for it.”

 

“That’s okay. I wasn’t, either.”

 

“But what would I do instead? I mean, you’ve got cooking, but I’m…I’ve only ever been good at two things in my entire life, you know? Basketball, I mean, I love it, but I missed my opportunity to go pro because I was too busy fucking around after high school, so whatever. Pipe dream.”

 

“What about the second thing?”

 

“Oh.” Aomine turned to him with a wink. “Can’t do that for money. Would be illegal.”

 

“Spare me.” Of course Aomine would build some bullshit sex joke into a serious conversation about his future. “Don’t think about it now, okay? Everything seems impossible when you’re hung over.”

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

Kagami hung around all afternoon, drinking water and choking down some dry cereal. They didn’t talk much, just watched old NBA highlights on Aomine’s phone and tried to ignore their pounding headaches. At around dinnertime, Aomine announced that he had to get ready for work, which garnered some sincere sympathy on Kagami’s part. They both showered and walked to the station together. Since Kagami’s jeans were still wet, he borrowed the basketball shorts from earlier. They got on the train and said their farewells when Aomine had to transfer. Kagami spent the rest of his journey trying to piece together the previous night.

 

He was two stops from home when he remembered the kiss.

 

…

 

Two weeks crept by, and they still hadn’t talk about it. A part of Kagami hoped that Aomine didn’t remember. It wasn’t as if he treated him any differently. They still hung out a lot—more than previously, in fact, because Aomine had stopped taking classes. They played basketball and watched illegally downloaded American movies that Kagami had to translate, and when Kagami finally found a new apartment, Aomine helped him move without asking why he had to leave.

 

But even though their relationship hadn’t changed, Aomine’s behavior sort of had. Without school, he was picking up more shifts at the bar, and he was going out a lot more after work because of it. Not that it should matter. Nightlife and casual sex weren’t Kagami’s forte, but if Aomine was having fun, more power to him.

 

That’s how Kagami had to look at it because if he let any of those other thoughts creep in—how intensely Aomine had held his gaze as he rode him into the mattress, how surprisingly good he was at trivia, how his shoulders slumped sometimes when he thought no one was looking—he’d be fucked, and not in the way that felt nice.

 

…

 

It was 10 a.m. on a Tuesday, and Kagami was on his way to work. Not to the ramen shop for once, but to a construction site at the edge of the city. Thanks to one of his dad’s colleagues, who was still fond of him despite the dramatic family rift, Kagami had managed to land a gig interpreting for a real estate company’s Australian investors. Having not slept much due to nerves, he wasn’t feeling optimistic. Sure, his English was good, but he knew fuck all about business. That, and he hadn’t slept much. Those same nerves meant Kagami was ready about an hour before he needed to be, and, as Aomine’s place was on the way to the site, he decided to stop by.

 

They had been watching a lot of horror movies lately with Kise and Kuroko, and because Kise was so jumpy, Aomine had started doing this thing where he would hide somewhere and scare the poor guy when he walked into a room. This had escalated quickly into a jump scare war between the four of them, a war that Kuroko was winning for obvious reasons with Kagami and Aomine locked in a close race for second place.

 

This was how Kagami got the bright idea to sneak into Aomine’s apartment.

 

Figuring that Aomine would still be sleeping, his plan was to hide in his bathroom, wake him with a phone call, and then jump out when he went to take a piss.

 

It didn’t work out like that.

 

The first thing Kagami noticed when he entered the studio—he knew the passcode for the door because Aomine was usually too much of a lazy fucker to answer it—was the stench of cigarettes. Aomine definitely didn’t smoke.

 

Too weirded out to remember to remove his shoes, he entered the apartment and walked past the kitchen and bathroom to where the narrow entrance opened into the main room.

 

Aomine was on his back in bed, head lolling, and face scrunched in an irritated frown. At some point the sheets must have been pulled off because the mattress was bare. This was all pretty typical. What wasn’t so typical was the random naked guy pawing at his crotch.

 

“Told ya I won’ get hard,” Aomine slurred, glassy-eyed as the guy prodded sadly at his boxers. “’M too fucked up.”

 

“Yeah, well that didn’t stop yah last night.”

 

“Yeah, well maybe I didn’ realize what an ugly fuck ya were last night.” He shoved half-heartedly at the guy’s shoulder. “Quit it, man. I feel sick.”

 

“Don’t be so drama—.”

 

“He told you to stop.”

 

“Holy _fuck_!”

 

Kagami must have looked pretty terrifying, materializing out of the dim hallway like a looming, business casual ogre. At least, that’s what he figured because the guy’s cigarette fell out of his mouth and he jumped about ten feet in the air.

 

Aomine did, too. If only the jump scare had come about under better conditions.

 

_I think you should leave_ , Kagami didn’t need to say as the guy shoved himself back into his clothes and fled the apartment.

 

When he was gone, Kagami turned on the fan, but without a window it just blew the smoke around. Fucking basement apartments. Apparently unable to sit upright, Aomine leaned back on his elbows and watched him. His brow was furrowed into an expression somewhere between confused and angry. He was still drunk from the previous night, Kagami realized. Way drunker than the other guy had been.

 

“You have impeccable taste in men," he said.

 

Aomine rolled his eyes. “Jus’ gimme that trashcan.”

 

After he’d finished getting violently ill into said trashcan, Aomine wiped his mouth and resumed glaring blearily at Kagami. “What’re you doin’ here, anyway?”

 

Kagami told him about his work thing. Then, not petty at all, he said, “I thought you weren’t into smokers.”

 

Post-vomit, Aomine had regained some color to his cheeks. He used this renewed vigor to lob a dirty sock at Kagami’s head. “Drop it, man. Anyway, what’re you still doin’ here? Gonna be late.”

 

_That doesn’t matter_ , Kagami almost said. “You sure you’re good?” he settled on, instead.

 

“’M fine, dude. You're the one who can’t handle alcohol.”

 

There was something in Aomine’s tone that he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps, it was -- and Kagami was about eighty percent sure he was using the word correctly -- sardonic. Either way, it triggered a fierce, frustrated shame in Kagami’s chest with which he was becoming woefully familiar.

 

“’Fine.” He turned to the door. “You still on for basketball on Thursday?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the other replied, slurring a little bit less. “Get ready to have your ass handed.”

 

...

 

Kagami got to the construction site ten minutes early. He shouldn’t have bothered worrying, it turned out. The meeting was casual, the industry jargon wasn’t so tricky as to trip him up, and all parties involved seemed to take a shine to him. For whatever reason.

 

All told, everything went fine. It was fine, really.

 

…

 

Basketball on Thursday was not fine.

 

Kise and Kuroko were already there when Kagami arrived, late because of a “miso emergency” at the ramen shop. Mind still filled with the horrors of rivers of broth flooding the kitchen floor, he wasn’t really in the mood for small talk. Aomine still hadn’t shown, though, so he found himself pinned down by a verbal barrage courtesy of Kise. Kuroko’s strategy for coping with this seemed to be ‘stay quiet and pretend he isn’t talking’, so he was no help at all as Kagami was stuck answering about a million nonsense questions and trying to think up commentary to compliment a hyperbolic account of the model’s last photo shoot.

 

It wasn’t that Kise was so bad. It was just that Kagami didn’t really know how to handle people who talked so much. He felt the same way around Momoi sometimes. Flooded with a sea of words, he struggled to keep floating.

 

After about half an hour and several increasingly annoyed and, so far, completely ignored texts, Aomine still hadn’t shown up.

 

“Where the hell is he?” Kagami muttered.

 

_'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU,'_ he typed.

“It seems like Daiki overslept,” Kuroko said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

Kise nodded. “He sleeps like the dead.”

 

How did Kise know what Aomine _slept_ like?

 

“He _will_ be dead if he doesn’t get here soon.”

 

“Um,” Kise said, “is it really _such_ a big deal?”

 

Kagami kicked the pavement. 

 

Kise continued. “You’re being _kind of_ dramatic.”

 

“I am _not_ dramatic.”

 

“He said, _dramatically_.”

 

“Stay out of this Kuorko!” Kagami hoped the glare he leveled at Kuroko conveyed the depth of disappointment he felt at his friend’s betrayal. He looked at his phone. Aomine had read his message without responding. The fucker.

 

Kise sighed—dramatically, Kagami barely managed not to point out. “I guess we can start without him.”

 

So, not getting any younger, they decided to play 1-on-1 without Aomine, switching out every 20 minutes so that they all got some time on the court. It was okay for Kise and Kagami, even if Kise’s copycat style had him seeing red a little bit, but as someone whose talents lied in team-based play, Kuroko wasn’t having much fun with it.

 

“You two keep playing,” he finally said. “I’ll wait until—oh, Daiki. There you are.”

 

There he was indeed, slumped against the fence with bags under his eyes a mile deep. “Hey,” he said. He sounded about as good as he looked. “You losers call that basketball?”

 

“Well hello there, sleeping beauty,” Kise paused mid-dribble to wiggle his eyebrows in the other’s general direction. “Did the prince finally kiss you awake?”

 

“If by kiss you mean fuck, then yes.”

 

“Daiki, don’t be gross.”

 

“He’s always gross.” Something must have been off in Kagami’s voice because Kise and Kuroko gave him a weird look. Aomine didn’t though. Instead, pushing himself carelessly off the fence, he stumbled onto the court.

 

They played two-on-two—Kagami and Kise versus Kuroko and Aomine—and it was a complete disaster. Even at his worst, Aomine was better than most, but Kagami saw every sloppy pass and unsteady pivot, every formless shot that didn’t come off quite right and skated off the rim. It made sense of course. Aomine was hung over and sleep-deprived, and he wasn’t warmed up like the rest of them. Whatever. It’s not like it was important or anything. It was just one game, a couple of friends killing time on their day off.

 

But Kagami had been waiting all week. All week to see that light in Aomine’s eyes, to feel that tug in his gut, the competitive fire that made him forget that everything else in his life had pretty much gone to shit.

 

The tipping point came when Aomine over-estimated his own momentum and sent Kise and himself crashing to the pavement.

 

“Ew, Aomine, get off!” Kise’s expression was one of unspeakable outrage as he struggled to disentangle himself from the other’s limbs.

 

No help at all, Aomine went boneless and offered the blond a lazy shrug. “I just can’t fight it anymore, dude. This attraction, the electricity between us, the adorable way you scream at me all the ti--.” Aomine was cut off as Kise began strangling him with the strings of his hoodie.

 

“Well,” Kuroko said, “I guess we should call it a day then.”

 

Swallowing tightly, Kagami shrugged.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

To be honest, he had been so busy trying to glare holes into Aomine’s hung over skull that it took him a moment to notice Kuroko’s patented ‘I’m concerned for you’ expression. “Uh,” he said, “should I not be?”

 

“I don’t know. You kind of look like you want to murder someone.”

 

That was Aomine talking.

 

Fuck Aomine, Kagami thought.

 

“Fuck you,” he said.

 

Readjusting his badly stretched sweatshirt, Aomine squirmed out of Kise’s reach. “What crawled up your ass, douche bag?” he asked, frowning.

 

“Isn’t that more your thing?” The second the words were out of Kagami’s mouth, he wanted to take them back. Which didn’t explain at all why he continued talking. “We all know you’d rather be fucking some stranger than hanging out with your friends.”

 

For a second, hurt flashed across the other’s face. Then, it bled into disappointment before settling on a cold, sharp smirk that Kagami had seen directed at others but never at himself. “Yeah, guess I can’t help gagging for it,” Aomine shot back.

 

“Dai—”, Kuroko began, touching Aomine’s shoulder, but he just shook him off and stepped right up into Kagami’s space.

 

“Guess it’s just _in my nature_ ,” he continued, low and mean. “Though I gotta admit, I’m surprised you take offense. Didn’t seem like you minded me putting out back in January when you were all butt-hurt about your _best friend’s_ wedding.”

 

“Yeah, well maybe I hadn’t realized what a waste of fucking space you were!”

 

“Oh, because you aren’t? At least I don’t live off my parents like a goddamn parasite.”

 

“Right,” Kagami snapped, teeth bared. “Because _you’re_ a parent’s fucking wet dream.”

 

“That’s enough.” Wedging himself between them, Kise grabbed Kagami by the collar and shoved him so hard that he almost stumbled. His expression, directed at Kagami, was positively venomous. “You should go.”

 

“Don’t bother.” Aomine was already heading towards his gym bag. “I’m already leaving.”

 

Kise waited until Aomine was out of earshot before he turned to Kuroko expectantly.

 

“Right,” Kuroko said after giving them both a worried look. "I'll go after him." Then he was gone, and it was just Kagami and Kise on the court.

 

Kagami had never really thought much of Kise. Literally, he wasn’t all that interested in the model outside of an appreciation for his skill at basketball and, in his weaker moments, his perfect eyebrows. Other than that, he’d always struck Kagami as sort of silly.

 

There was nothing silly in the way Kise slammed him into the chain link fence.

 

“What the fuck. Was that.”

 

Hell.

 

Kagami swallowed. “Lay off, man. I was just…” What was he just, exactly? “I had a shit week, okay. I lost my temper.”

 

“Is that what you call it?”

 

“I guess?” Kagami was finding it difficult to swallow with the model’s knuckles tucked up against his chin.

 

“You guess?” Kise’s grin was even sharper and meaner than Aomine’s. “Well, I _guess_ I read you wrong,” he said. “See, I figured you were an asshole from the beginning, but I thought you were too fucking stupid to cause much harm.”

 

Jesus, _Kise_ had just called him stupid.

 

“Turns out you’re not though,” Kise continued. “Is that your thing, huh? You get to know someone well enough and then just screw with them?”

 

Kagami had no idea what he was talking about. “I have no ide--.”

 

“Cut the bullshit! You knew exactly what you were doing. Why’d you have to bring up his family?”

 

Kagami opened his mouth to protest, to say that he hadn’t known it was a sore spot for Aomine, but that wasn’t exactly true, was it? He knew that Aomine and his parents didn’t talk much, that his dad was a bigoted asshole that even his grandmother could barely tolerate. So why had he said that?

 

It was obvious really.

 

Kagami had wanted to hurt him.

 

And, if the pained twist to Aomine’s lips had been anything to go off of, he had succeeded.

 

With a frustrated sigh, Kise released Kagami, allowing him to slump back against the fence. “Aomine didn’t answer my calls for two days after the whole wallet fiasco,” he said in a slow, measured way that probably meant he was trying to keep his temper. “When I got worried enough to break into his apartment, it turned out that he’d been alone in the dark playing Stardew Valley the entire time, but I hadn’t…I had no way of knowing that. Anyway, he was all hung up on you, and so when you guys started hanging out…yeah, it sucked that he was blowing me off to do shit with you, but I just...he’s never been happy. You know that? There’s this hollow thing inside him that isn’t about his parents or basketball or any of that shit. I know he's a dick, like, pretty much all of the time, but he's had a shitty time of things, and he's...he's my friend.” Kise’s hands clenched tightly, eyes trained on his designer shoes. “My point is, there’s a lot more to Aomine than most people think, and I thought that maybe you would get that and help him feel less horrible all the time, but obviously I was wrong.”

 

…

 

Long after Kise had left, Kagami remained on the court. He leaned against the chain link fence, noting dully how the metal felt colder through his t-shirt as evening approached. Finally, when the first streetlamps flickered on, he reached into his pocket for his phone.

 

He called his mom. She didn’t pick up.

 

Neither did his father.

 

His battery died halfway through ringing Tatsuya, and so Kagami stared quietly at the blank screen until everything went dark.

 

…

 

The next morning, Aomine was ignoring all his messages, so Kagami took the train Nakano and hammered on his door. Normally, he would have just let himself in, but Kagami didn’t think that would be much appreciated at the moment. Instead, feeling like a total creep, he loitered in the hall, ignoring a few neighbors’ incredulous stares as they walked by. Maybe Aomine just wasn’t up yet, or maybe, maybe…

 

“Aomine!” Kagami shouted, banging on the unfortunate door with renewed vigor. “Open up, asshole! I’m here to apologize!” Pausing to catch his breath, he shot him another quick message, then called him and left a rather dramatic voicemail that said something along the lines of “ARE YOU OKAY? CALL ME SO I CAN APOLOGIZE, YOU INCONSIDERATE DICKBAG!” and then finally, deciding that Aomine’s privacy could go fuck itself on the phallus of his overwhelming concern, Kagami mashed the passcode into the keypad lock and kicked the door wide open.

 

Aomine, who was sitting on the couch, barely even looked at him.

 

“Dude! What the hell?” Grabbing him by the shoulders, Kagami gave the other a rough shake. “I’ve been banging on your door for, like, an hour.”

 

Aomine blinked. Then, slowly, as though just waking from a deep sleep, he said, “I wasn’t…paying attention. Sorry. What d’you want?”

 

_For you to stop acting like a zombie?_ “I wanted to apologize,” Kagami replied instead, “for all the shit that I said yesterday.”

 

“Oh. Don’t worry about that, man.” Then, as a lethargic afterthought. “It’s not a big deal. I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t seem fine.”

 

The irritation that flashed briefly across Aomine’s face was weirdly reassuring. “I am fine,” he said, more firmly. “Just, I dunno. Tired.”

 

Realizing that he was also pretty fucking tired, Kagami collapsed on the other side of the sofa. “I really am sorry. You know I don’t think you’re, like, actually a waste of space, right?”

 

Aomine smiled a little. “Well, I don’t actually think you’re a parasite.”

 

“Not anymore, at least. My dad cut me off.”

 

“Seriously?” Animation seemed to return to Aomine in increments as he finally met Kagami’s gaze. “What a dick. Is that why you had to leave the apartment with the porno windows?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Damn. What an asshole.”

 

“You have no idea.” Except, Kagami realized, the other probably did have an idea. “Anyway, I said some awful shit, but it wasn’t about you. It’s just…I’m all fucked up about other stuff right now, and I took it out one you, which wasn’t fair.”

 

“It’s okay.” Aomine gave him a playful shove, but it feel a little forced. What had he been up to, just sitting in the dark?

 

“Okay, cool.” Kagami cracked his knuckles. Fuck. Was he really about to do this? “And what I said, about you sleeping around and stuff, I—.”

 

“Dude, whatever. We don’t have to talk about it.”

 

“No! I mean, yes! We do! It’s not like I think you’re wrong for doing that. Or that it's like a...a bi thing. I guess, I just…you never seem that happy, after, and it’s, like, I dunno, man. You just never seem that happy.”

 

Aomine rolled his eyes. “Been listening to Kise's _bullshit_ , by any chance?”

 

“Um. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t--.”

 

“Just drop it, okay?” Standing, Aomine began picking up the dirty dishes that populated his room and deposited them in the sink with unnecessary malice. “I’m great. You can tell Kise and Tetsu all about it. Can we be done?”

 

“We can't, actually. I wanna talk about the night I kissed you.”

 

Aomine’s laugh was surprised and bitter enough to curdle milk. “Are you serious? You really wanna talk about that shit?”

 

“Not really. But we probably should, right? It was kinda weird.”

 

“ _Kinda weird_.” Aomine glared at him defiantly. “Don’t worry. I didn’t kiss back. You were completely hammered.”

 

“I didn’t thi—.”

 

“And I even slept on the futon, so it’s not like, I didn’t _do_ anything, okay?" Aomine's defiance was slipping in to something that more resembled fear. "I just brought you to my place so you wouldn’t die alone in some alley. Don’t be pissed.” 

 

“I’m not pissed.” Kagami swallowed. “I’m, uh, really sorry about that, too, actually.”

 

Aomine gave him a blank look. “You’re sorry?”

 

“Duh, of course I am. After all the shit I said about you fucking around with me, I was the one who made you uncomfortable.”

 

“I wasn’t…uncomfortable. You were just drunk. It happens. Besides, it was you, so.”

 

“Well, it still wasn’t right. I shouldn’t ha—what do you mean ‘it was me’?”

 

Aomine dropped the last glass into the sink and folded his arms tight across his chest. “Are you really gonna make me say it? Jesus, dude, don’t be a dick.”

 

“Make you say what?” None of this was making sense. Kagami tried to catch the other’s eye, but he just stared determinedly at the yellowing linoleum. “Aomine?”

 

“Oh my _god,_ I like you! Obviously. As if you didn’t already fucking know.”

 

“…what?”

 

“You’re being a real asshole, you know that?” Aomine said, sounding more tired than pissed off.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just, what?”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the other let out a beleaguered sigh. “I dunno, dude. When we met at that party, you were hot, but like, shy and grumpy, too, and apparently I’m into that. And then that time you came to Nakano, I could tell you were pissed, but you, uh, still put up with me and I thought, ‘hey, this guy is pretty chill, so maybe,’ but then I fucked everything up, and, um, yeah. Now we’re here.”

 

“Okay, well, that’s, um, that’s cool, because I like you, too.”

 

Aomine didn’t respond for, like, a whole minute. “You don’t,” he finally said, slowly, like Kagami was a total idiot. “I told you before, I’m not the kind of person that people like.”

 

“Well, that’s too bad because I really like you.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“You just…whatever. You think I’m hot. I am hot, so…”

 

“Oh my god, you’re not _that_ hot.”

 

“I am.”

 

He was.

 

“Fine, you are!” Kagami amended. “But that’s not why I like you, so it would be really awesome if you would just _believe_ me.”

 

For a long moment neither of them said anything. They just stared each other down in a way that seemed inappropriately aggressive given the situation. Then, with another, even more beleaguered sigh, Aomine walked over and sat back down on the futon.

 

“Okay,” he said. He sounded bored like he usually was, but his hands were shaking. “You like me, and you don’t think I’m a waste of space. So what now? You wanna make out?”

 

“Yes?”

 

And then Aomine was in his lap—chest to chest, thighs spread wide to slot over his hips—and they were kissing, and even if his movements were practiced, Aomine was definitely nervous, and there was probably a whole lot more shit they had to talk about, but it was all right, Kagami thought. For now, things were good.

 

 


End file.
